


Chasing the Storm

by sirenofodysseus



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: AU: pirate, Character Death, Explicit Language, F/M, Graphic Description, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Jane/Lisbon If You Squint, Kidnapping, Rewrite, Sexual elements, VUST, non-con elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:35:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 59,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25195531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirenofodysseus/pseuds/sirenofodysseus
Summary: In the year 1700, the Scarlet Oasis sailed the ocean with Captain Patrick Jane at the helm. In his quest to kill the Pirate Captain Red John, who killed his wife and daughter, his first mate--Teresa Lisbon--becomes a prisoner of Red John's ship, The Red Rum.To save her, Captain Jane and his motley pirate crew must find Captain Red John before Captain Red John finds them.Unfortunately for our favorite band of anti-heroes, chaos ensues.Updated weekly.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story has been a thing for almost ten years; it was finished on fanfiction.net back in 2012, and let's just say -- it was very elementary. Now, almost ten years later -- Chasing the Storm has been written with a more mature mindset. This story contains dark themes such as rape/non-con, sexual content, character death, and violence. 
> 
> Co-written with loveconquersallx, Chasing the Storm is an alternate universe that has spawned into nearly fourteen chapters (so far). We plan on updating weekly, so hopefully, you'll find yourself enjoying the little world we've created with the help of The Mentalist characters. 
> 
> Note from !loveconquersallx: Hello all! It's your favorite, wacky Twitter user. This story is mine and sirenofodysseus's love child. We have grown attached to the characters of The Mentalist; as well as the ones we created ourselves. I would almost say that this story is a love letter to the show that brought us together and made us best friends. I know everyone who reads will have their own opinions, but just know that it was created with love. I hope you find the hope, strength, and wisdom in these characters as much as we do. We miss this show immensely and so, I dedicate Chasing the Storm to it. Thanks for bringing me and my best friend together. Happy reading! 
> 
> Without further ado, here is part 1.

“Land Ho!”

Shouted high above the roar of the busy hub, the two words had the entire twenty-eight person Scarlet Oasis crew working into an excited frenzy. The wide set of wooden doors to the Captain’s Quarters, located below the poop deck, propelled open from the force Pirate Captain Patrick Jane had placed on them from the inside. Jane said nothing as he leisurely strolled across the hardwood deck and leaned against the inner railing, a smile pressed across his clean-shaven face.

“Isn’t Howl Island a sight for sore eyes, boys?” The entire crew, sans six, cheered in response at their Captain’s enthusiastic question. Staring out at the distant island lit by the purple and orange haze of dusk, Captain Jane took a moment to breathe in the salty air before he turned to face his royal crew. It didn’t take him long scouting to find his First Mate, who had taken it upon herself to lean against the opposite railing of the Scarlet Oasis. “How goes my favorite First Mate and her lackey, this fine evening?” First Mate Teresa Lisbon fixed him with a firm glare, while the slender brunette to Lisbon’s left crossed her arms against her chest. Jane couldn’t help his enthusiastic grin at the mirrored looks of contempt. 

“Until you showed up,” replied the slender brunette, as she forced her pink and plump lips into an ungrudging smile. “My day was going just fine, but thanks for asking.”

“Ah, Kristina. You never do fail to amuse me,” Jane responded brightly before he waved his finger at the young woman. “Regrettably, you continue to ignore the most valued rule upon my magnificent vessel. Do you know what that rule might be?”

Kris eyed the sky, thoughtfully. “Kiss the Captain’s ass at all times?” Before Jane could chastise the brunette, Lisbon’s elbow slammed into her ribs forcing Jane to smile graciously. “Captain. Always call you Captain,” she added, rather hastily before Lisbon could attempt a second jab. Per usual, he merely rolled his eyes and glanced toward Lisbon.

“Excellent job, Lisbon,” Jane complimented, as Lisbon grimaced in response. “While I doubt you’ll be joining us men tonight, my dear, all of your drinks are on me.” The boisterous crew let out yet another cheer, while Lisbon worked to reaffix the blue bandana atop her forehead; the crinkled material kept her dark hair away from her face, in the dry heat of the July evening.

“And have you hit on me, sir?” Lisbon gave, dryly. “I think I’ll pass on the offer, but thank you.”

“Be my guest, my First Mate,” Jane replied with a grin. “You’ve never seen my legendary status with the Salty Ana’s barmaid, Ms. Hightower, though.” Lisbon fixed him with yet another pointed glare, which he ignored in favor of Kris’s taunt.

“No comment on my forever asshole hilarity, however?” Kris asked lowly, sidestepping Lisbon’s elbow jab with a chuckle. “My, how far we’ve come.”  
Jane tipped her an innocent-enough grin, before he pushed away from the inner railing and started toward the steps of the helm. “I’d threaten to take away the rum from you, but I feel Lisbon might regret my decision later on.” He paused briefly to serve Lisbon another stern nod before he ascended the wooden steps to speak with his Sailing Master, Kimball Cho.

Kris turned to face Lisbon again, who frowned at her unruly subordinate. “What did he do to get that legendary status? Bed her?”

“You should respect him, Kris,” Lisbon chided, as Kris moved to cross her arms against the gray V-necked shirt she had donned that morning. “I know he’s insufferable and intolerable at times, but he is the Captain of our ship.” Kris said nothing in response. “I’m heading up toward the helm, alright.” Lisbon mirrored Jane’s actions and followed the same path that her Captain had taken up the stairs, without a moment of hesitation. Although she nearly had a fright upon the sight of her Captain’s hand pressed against the wooden wheel, but Master Gunner Wayne Rigsby’s relaxed demeanor spoke volumes. Cho also seemed rather unimpressed by whatever the Captain had to say, but she couldn’t help but comment on Jane’s current action.

“I thought the reason we appointed Cho as the Sailing Master was to keep him away from the helm,” Lisbon commented to Cho.

Cho glanced up at her from his array of navigational tools to blink at her, “It was.”

“He’s not steering, Lisbon,” Rigsby answered. Lisbon rolled her eyes again.  
Jane took his hand off the wheel, before he turned to face her. “I have learned my lesson, Lisbon. I leave the navigating to Cho, and he leaves the captaining to me.” Lisbon almost snorted. It was a laughable offense to think of him as in charge, but as he was her Captain, she just shook her head at him. “What do you all think about docking on Howl Island for a few days? We could do with some supplies, considering Mashburn’s continued drain on our rations.”

“You should just get rid of him,” Lisbon replied, ignoring Jane’s question. “He does nothing, aside from make lewd comments about certain female crew members.” Jane’s grin grew and Lisbon huffed in irritation.

“We’d never be able to sail without him,” Cho gave.

“Technically, I’m the Captain. You wouldn’t be able to sail without me.”

Unable to contain her barb, Lisbon grimaced at her Captain. “That’s still up for debate.”

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news here, Lisbon,” Jane continued, “but unless you have enough monetary substance to finance our various pursuits, we’re not getting rid of Walter.”

“You truly enjoy torturing me, don’t you?” Lisbon asked.

“I’m your Captain; I would never dare to do such a thing to you, my First Mate.”

“That is still debatable,” Lisbon emphasized, forcing Jane to raise his eyebrows toward her.

“Is there something you want to tell me, my dear?” Lisbon swallowed, before she waved him over. Away from Rigsby and Cho’s prying ears, Jane placed a finger to his scabbard. “You’re not secretly staging a mutiny, are you?”

“I’m positive that I’ve got much better things to do than stage a mutiny,” Lisbon said and Jane eyed her, before she lowered her voice. “We need to talk, Jane.” Her eyes flickered to Rigsby and Cho, who had both paused to stare at her briefly. She tried to smile at them, but from their blank stares, she figured she had failed miserably in her attempt to comfort them and she turned back to Jane.

“Right now?” He asked her and she nodded again. Jane turned to both Rigsby and Cho. “Could you give us a moment alone, men?” Rigsby crossed his arms against his chest, as Cho stared down Jane. Lisbon turned to eye them again, before she nodded at them both. Reluctantly, they left. “Is everything okay, Lisbon?”

Lisbon blinked, clearing her throat. “I’m…I wanted to thank you for the past nine years.” She watched Jane open his mouth, but she stopped him by shaking her head. “However, I’ve decided that this will be my last trek with the Scarlet Oasis.”

Jane’s lips pressed together into a firm line, before he snorted. “Oh? And just wherever will you go, Lisbon? Home?” Lisbon’s cheeks burned, tucking her chin into her chest. “Have you forgotten that you owe me, Lisbon? That you don’t just leave, unless I permit you to leave.” Jane snorted again, pressing one of his fingers into her cheek. Lisbon shuddered at his featherweight touch, her skin set ablaze, before his forced push caused her to stumble. “Get out of my sight. If you bring up leaving again, I’ll maroon you without a weapon.” Jane turned his back on her, and not for the last time, she thought about driving her sword through his back. Her fingers skimmed the dark scabbard of her sword, before she turned her head away from Jane’s backside and glanced out toward Howl Island. With Jane and most of the crew out drinking, Lisbon knew she had a perfect time of opportunity to leave the Scarlet Oasis—but leaving without saying goodbye felt wrong almost somehow. She swallowed at Cho and Rigsby’s voices, both men returning to the helm at Jane’s rather loud instance. 

She felt Cho’s eyes on her. “He’s not worth it, boss.” Rigsby’s nod in agreeance caused Lisbon to smile at the both of them, as Jane left the helm. The moment he disappeared from their sights, Rigsby put his hand to Lisbon’s shoulder.

“Are you alright, Lisbon?”

“I’m fine, Rigsby,” Lisbon lied, before she glanced at Cho with a frown. “How long will it be till we dock?”

Cho shrugged. “Fifteen minutes.”  
Lisbon nodded, already forming a plan in her mind. “I’m sending you both and Kris to shadow Jane tonight. Try and bring him back before his tenth shot?” While Lisbon had no plans on being anywhere near the Scarlet Oasis, after Jane’s first shot, she also didn’t want the crew suffering thanks to Jane’s enjoyment of rum. Rigsby grimaced at her announcement. “If it weren’t for his past movements of drunken stupidity, I’d probably have no problem letting him go off by himself.” She paused to glance between them both. “I doubt I have to remind you what happened the last time we let him have at it.” From Rigsby’s flinch and Cho’s slight sidestep, she knew she didn’t. “I’ll let you both get back to work, okay?” Without verbal confirmation, she turned on the heels of her tan boots and descended the helm with a wildly fluttering heart. In the nine years of her tenure on the Scarlet Oasis as a crewmember and then as First Mate, she had come to learn that while Patrick Jane had a boyishly handsome charm about him—Captain Jane also had a bloodthirsty penchant for vengeance. Cho had once said that before the tragic loss of Jane’s wife and child to Pirate Captain Red John, Jane had been an entertainer and adventurer. Lisbon had long ago tried to imagine her Captain, who often terrorized crewmembers into a state of loyalty to himself and the Scarlet Oasis, as a carefree and happy type of individual—but she had never been able to see it in him.

Lisbon sighed, crossing her arms against her navy blue t-shirted chest. She supposed it was a good thing that she was leaving too, but it still didn’t help the heaviness in her chest. Or, she tried to swallow, the lump in her throat at the thought of leaving the only home she had ever had.

::::

One thing Lisbon knew she wouldn’t miss about the Scarlet Oasis though were the constant shouting matches between Kris and Mashburn. Rounding the corner to the wardroom, Lisbon rolled her eyes at Kris’s yell of you’re an idiot to Mashburn. Lisbon had warned the young brunette about her temper from day one, but with Mashburn’s constant intention to hit on everything that moved—Lisbon was still somewhat surprised that Kris hadn’t run her sword through him yet.

“You shouldn’t bully the rich and handsome, Kristina,” Mashburn quipped with a toothy smile. Lisbon nearly gritted her teeth. “It’s what we, in the pirating business, call petty jealousy.”

“Petty jealousy?” Kris asked with a snort. Mashburn kept grinning, obviously quite pleased with himself and Lisbon stepped forward before Kris could retort an insult.

“What in the hell are you two doing?” Lisbon asked, tapping her foot against the wood. The sound of her foot (or voice) caused the both of them to turn around and stare at her in surprise. “Did I not assign you both tasks to complete?”

Mashburn waved her off. “You’re looking awfully gorgeous today, Teresa.” He tilted his head slightly to view her left side, forcing her to narrow her eyes. “Is that a new sword? It looks fantastic on you, my dear.”

“Give it a rest, Walter,” Lisbon said, ignoring his conquest with a grimace. “We’re roughly five minutes away from docking, shouldn’t you be completing inventory?” Mashburn innocently blinked, before Lisbon tugged her sword from its scabbard. “I’m not above taking a page from Jane’s book, Walter. Go, now.” Mashburn hurriedly waved his fingers, before he disappeared altogether. “And you,” Lisbon turned toward Kris, who smiled languidly. “What have I told you about fighting with Mashburn?”

“Oh come on,” Kris replied, rolling her eyes as Lisbon placed her sword away. “You know how he is, Lisbon! Also, I wouldn’t actually do anything to hurt him.” Kris’s smile brightened. “Much, anyway…”

“Saffron!” Lisbon snapped Kris’s last name. Her smile disappeared. “We’ve had this discussion! Mashburn is one of your Crew Officers. Behind my back, you can disrespect him all you want. To my face and his, however, you will treat him with respect. Am I understood?” Kris said nothing. “Am I understood?”

“Yes,” Kris muttered quickly, glancing toward the ground. “Whatever you say, First Mate Lisbon.” Lisbon said nothing. “If you don’t need anything else, I think…”

“No. There’s still the matter of your punishment,” Lisbon interrupted quietly, ignoring Kris’s glance of disbelief. “You are going to accompany Captain Jane, Officers Rigsby and Cho at the Salty Ana tonight.” Kris grimaced, before she opened her mouth. “No arguments.” Lisbon stopped her. “You’ve been given much more leeway than other crew members of this vessel, but you need to learn self-discipline and control. I hope this punishment will teach you that.” 

Kris rolled her eyes again. “How is watching the idiot drink himself to death supposed to teach me self-discipline and control, Lisbon?” Lisbon narrowed her eyes. “But, whatever; I’ll go. You’re the First Mate and I know the pecking order. Anything else?”

Lisbon stared at her for a moment in silence, before she shook her head. “No. You’re good.” Kris offered her another eye roll, before the young brunette stepped past her. Lisbon couldn’t help but frown as she continued her stroll toward the wardroom. Forcing her way past the double doors and into the Officer living quarters, Lisbon grimaced at the general dismay of the dining table before she continued into her darkened bedroom.

“You’re not planning on packing, are you?” Jane’s voice nearly caused her to jump, before she caught sight of his candlelit face in the corner of her bedroom. Lisbon shut the door and turned to face Jane, crossing her arms against her chest. “It’s considered a mutiny to lie to your Captain, Lisbon.”

Lisbon eyed him wearily. “I told you, I’ve got better things to do than plan a mutiny.” She heard Jane snort in response. “Don’t you have a ship to go captain or something?” Lisbon turned on him to face her bare cot, only to feel his bare arm wrap around her waist.

“Don’t be like that, Teresa,” Jane whispered in her ear, forcing her to shiver against him. “I came to see you specifically.”

“You’ve seen me,” she replied dryly, pulling herself from his grasp. “Now, you can leave, sir.” She moved to sit down on her cot, but Jane’s hand— pressed against her shoulder—forced her to glance at him again. “What?”

“I’m curious,” Jane continued after he had pulled himself away from her, his fingers hooked, firmly, into the waistband of her trousers. “You’ve yet to say one thing about my plan to paint this port red. Do I take that you’re finally joining us?”

Lisbon side-eyed him, crossing her arms against her chest again. “I’d rather clean the brig.”

“That can be arranged, Teresa,” he commented and for a moment, Lisbon was unsure if he was threatening her or not. However, his smile had her shifting uncomfortably, especially as he pressed himself against her. “I wouldn’t put too high priority on that task. You’ve got an unruly crew member to take to task first.” Lisbon sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “If you do not deal with her, I shall; and trust me, Teresa; it does not do well for you to disobey that direct order.” He flashed his teeth at her. “I shall see you tonight, prior to our departure.” Before she could say a secondary word, Jane was gone.

::::

“I still think this is ridiculous and unnecessary torture,” Kris muttered to Lisbon, rejoining the First Mate on the main deck after another shout of Land Ho! Lisbon smoothed down her tan trousers, before shooting an arbitrary glance at Kris, who seemed all too comfortable slouching on the ship’s ledge. Lisbon considered slamming her elbow into Kris’s side, but she also knew it would do her no good. The relationship between Captain Jane and Crewmember Kris would probably never amount to anything, other than eventual death or banishment. “You’ve nearly shot Mashburn over less before and I’m being sent to captain our Captain? Unfair.”

“It’s part of the reason I’m the First Mate and you’re not,” Lisbon remarked, bitingly. Kris glanced at her, mouth slightly ajar. “You get to parlay the Captain and I’m forced to, per usual, stroke the fool’s ego.” Her eyes shot to Mashburn chatting to one of the other crew members. “Don’t envy me. It’s not exactly a reward.” Although Jane hadn’t given his final directive yet, she knew it was coming. It wasn’t that they couldn’t trust Walter Mashburn alone on the Scarlet Oasis, because technically they could; it just had more to do with the amount of enemies they had on any given port and from past experience, leaving Mashburn alone usually resulted in devastating loss.

Lisbon rubbed at her shoulder. The last time, Jane had been pissed for days.

“I’ll stay and you go,” Kris tried to offer. “You could use a vacation from the ship and from a certain Pirate Captain, but it’s none of my business.” Lisbon nearly laughed at the younger brunette, but at the last minute, decided to bite her lip. Kris had no idea how badly she deserved a vacation too. Although, her vacation would be a permanent one—not a four hour drinking excursion, while staring at the enlarged bosoms of nearly half of the island’s population. Kris opened her mouth again, but Jane’s sudden presence had her closing her mouth.

“The port of Howl Island is a beautiful sight,” Jane breathed next to Lisbon, forcing her to roll her eyes. “Not having it tonight though, I see?”

“This is the hundredth time I’ve seen this port, sir,” Lisbon responded dryly, turning to glance out onto the sunkissed port. “Howl Island isn’t any different from Shell Island, unless you consider the jackass Governor.” Lisbon couldn’t help but grimace. She’d never actively met the Governor from Shell Island, but she knew, from the word of Jane, that Governor Bertram, of Governor’s Island, and the Shell Island Governor were related.

“Hear-hear!” Rigsby commented in passing, causing Lisbon to sigh. She had almost forgotten that Rigsby, at one point, had actually met the Shell Island Governor, thanks to a drunkenly misconduct incident. “Bastard tried to have me hung.” Lisbon glanced toward Kris, who seemed highly invested in the story. Of course, who wouldn’t be? Kris had joined the crew after most of the islands had outlawed heavy drinking, aside from Jubilee Island.

“What happened?” Kris asked. “Did you try to cut a man’s nose off?” Jane waved her question away and she grimaced. “Jackass Captain.”

Lisbon elbowed Kris. “Stop it. Rigsby will explain it to you later on, if you ask him.” She glanced toward Rigsby, who nodded. Lisbon glanced back toward Jane, before he could chastise anyone from disrespect. “Sir, we’ve been docked for nearly ten minutes now and you’re still here. Is everything alright?” Jane nodded, rubbing his fingers against his chin.

“I was waiting for your assignment of bloodhounds tonight,” Jane commented, eyeing her. “You typically assign them the moment we hit shore.”

Lisbon eyed him. “You’ll forgive me then for being distracted, sir. It’s been a long day.” Jane nodded again and she glanced about the nearby gathered crew officers. “Officers Rigsby, Cho, Mashburn and Crewmember Kristina. You four will be assisting Captain Jane tonight.” Jane said nothing for a moment, which forced a knot to form in her stomach. What was he thinking? What was he considering? “You don’t agree with my decision.”

“I also don’t agree with England’s decision to tax tea,” Jane idly commented. “However, I’m not threatening to slice King George’s throat open for it.” Lisbon met Jane’s eyes. “Between you and myself, however, I fully believe Officer Mashburn would be better suited to stay here.” The double-handedness of his comment didn’t go over her head. She wanted him to stay to watch her. She narrowed her eyes.

“I think the Scarlet Oasis will be just fine, Captain,” she answered. “To my current knowledge, we have no enemies or unforeseeable dangers here.” Jane glanced at her, his lips upturning slightly at the corners.  
“Highly optimistic, aren’t you?” Jane questioned, dryly. Lisbon bit her lip. “If I didn’t know any better, First Mate Lisbon, I’d say you were attempting to run us off this vessel.”  
Lisbon eyed her Captain. “And go where, sir?”

“Exactly,” Jane answered. “I’m glad you’ve finally seen my point, Teresa.” He turned away from her and she imagined driving her sword into his neck; she imagined him groveling for his life before her. The image brought a whisper of a smile to her face and she had to turn away from everyone. It would do her no well to be caught smiling about the idea of Jane’s death. “However, you have a point. Walter’s appearance would mean more drinks.”

“I’ll keep the drinks coming all night, Captain,” Mashburn called out.

“It’s settled then,” Jane replied, forcing Lisbon’s attention on him again. “Mashburn will be stepping out with us this fine evening and Lisbon, you shall be staying here.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Lisbon muttered while Mashburn exclaimed his excitement to Rigsby and Kris, who seemed deflated at the idea of yet another punishment thrown her way.   
Jane glanced outward, onto the port, before he glanced back at her. “It’s going to storm soon, by the way. Make sure She doesn’t take on any water, Lisbon.”

“Of course, sir.”

“We’ll be back by morning, as should the rest of you.” Lisbon eyed Jane’s wave of his hand toward Cho, Rigsby, Kris and Mashburn with relief. Begrudgingly, the four followed Jane off the ship—and eventually, after nearly a dozen, I’ll be fine’s to the other crew members, she stood alone.

Heart heavy (and relieved), she turned her back on the Port of Howl Island. Lisbon closed her eyes and tempted the idea of stealing sips of rum from the Captain’s Quarters, but the dry breeze against her cheek kept her rooted against the deck’s edge. The sounds of water crashing against the boat and the gentle swaying motion of the haul lulled her to a point of almost relaxation, where she felt comfortable enough to strip off her boots.

“In a position that finally suits you, I see.”

Lisbon turned on her bare heels to find Craig O’Laughlin, dressed in a loose black buttoned-up shirt and tan trousers, standing behind her. Rage bubbled up inside of her at the giant smirk on his face and before she could yield her sword toward him, she felt a pair of strong hands seize her arms. Lisbon attempted to jerk away from the hold, but the it became tighter at every movement.

“What in the hell are you doing here?” Lisbon asked.

“Well, if you must know,” O’Laughlin answered, still smirking. “I’m looking for Ms. Saffron.” Lisbon stared at him, narrowing her eyes. “She owes me a favor, not that it’s any of your business though.”

“It is my business when it comes to my crewmembers,” Lisbon retorted.

“Are you absolutely positive that her loyalties lie with the right side?” O’Laughlin questioned and Lisbon kept staring at him, tilting her head slightly. “What? Did you honestly think that Kristina was innocent in all of this?” He tsked. “You really are kept out of the loop on this crew, aren’t you?” She glanced down at her bare feet. “Admission of fault, Teresa, or are you ashamed?”

Lisbon quickly sneered. “My only fault was letting you onto my ship, asshole.”

“Language, Ms. Lisbon,” O’Laughlin corrected, before he stopped to laugh. “Or, is it Mrs. Jane now? I can never tell with your position on this fine vessel.” O’Laughlin glanced at her, snorting. “Do you enjoy it when he rams you from behind and you have no choice, but to take it?”

“I’m a First Mate, not a wench,” Lisbon snapped back, swallowing hard.

“I beg to differ,” O’Laughlin said. “From where I stand, you have the qualities of a two-bit wench. You obviously walk around with your legs spread.” O’Laughlin’s lip curled, his hand grabbing the front of his crotch. “How about you take my dick into your mouth, Teresa, and we might consider letting you go then.”

“If you put your dick anywhere near my mouth, you’ll fucking lose it.”

“Feisty,” O’Laughlin replied as he stepped toward her. Lisbon wasted no time in spitting at him, forcing his callused hand to grab roughly onto her chin. “You look far better than the last time we crossed paths, Teresa.” His eyes shot to her shoulder, which ached dully at the continued jerking around. “Patrick must have knocked some discipline into you to not fight me back. How disappointing. I was expecting a fight.”

“How can I fight when you’ve got your acolyte trying to break off my arm?” Lisbon asked him, seething.

O’Laughlin glanced her over. “I’ve seen you fight injured before, Teresa. Do not use an excuse as weak as Patrick Jane, especially to stop yourself from defending your…” he glanced toward her clothed vagina. “…virtue. That, my dear, Patrick took long ago.”

Lisbon bared her teeth, before she slammed her leg into the acolyte’s crotch. Almost immediately, she felt him release her arms, as the muscle collapsed to the ground, groaning in agony at the contact, and she grabbed her pistol from the back of her trousers, only for O’Laughlin’s hand to jerk the gun away from her. In the struggle, however, she managed to shoot a bullet into his foot.   
“You fucking little bitch!” O’Laughlin raged, tossing the gun overboard, before his hand wrapped around her throat. Gasping for breath, Lisbon tried to claw O’Laughlin’s hands off her neck—but it was to no avail. She knew she was going to die at the hands of Craig O’Laughlin, the man her Captain had ordered her to shoot dead on sight.

“Par…lay,” Lisbon tried to rasp out, but O’Laughlin’s flinty eyes told her mercy would not come. Especially for her. “Par…lay!”

“O’Laughlin!” Lisbon heard another voice above the ringing in her ears, and fighting unconsciousness, she hoped it was someone – anyone – from the Scarlet Oasis. “This is not what the Captain wanted. Do you wish for our executions at his hand?”

“Mind your own goddamn business, Carter,” O’Laughlin snapped, before dropping her. Still gasping and massaging her throat, Lisbon’s attention immediately shot to the looming figure over O’Laughlin’s shoulder. “I’ll do whatever the fuck I desire to her.”

Her heart nearly stopped at the sight of the bloodied and bruised Timothy Carter, who merely smiled down at her.

“It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?” Carter asked her softly, hobbling from behind O’Laughlin’s figure, only to bend down and press the pad of his thumb to her bruised chin. Lisbon swallowed her bile to keep from vomiting. “You’re just as lovely as ever, Teresa. It’s a true shame you allowed yourself to become marred by Captain Jane, as you’d fetch quite a pretty doubloon underground.”

“Run out of girls to rape, Carter?” Lisbon shot back hoarsely, steadying herself for Carter’s reaction to her jab. She watched him blink and smirking, Lisbon added. “Or, do you still only touch displaced little girls?”

“And you feared she had lost that spark,” Carter commented to O’Laughlin, ignoring her altogether. Lisbon silently stared up at them, inching her aching foot to swipe Carter’s gimp leg. “If anything, Captain Jane has provided his pet with something far worse than domesticity.” Carter tsked. “You see, we can train domesticity—but you simply cannot beat independence from an animal, such as First Mate Teresa Lisbon.” Lisbon took Carter’s momentary distraction to swipe her foot toward Carter’s gimp leg, only for his wooden cane to whack against her ankle—instantly fracturing the bone. Lisbon howled in pain. “However,” Lisbon (through the tears in her eyes) watched Carter pass his cane over to O’Laughlin, who immediately grimaced. “I find you can usually eliminate independence through strict discipline and routine.” O’Laughlin didn’t wait for Carter to finish his sentence, before he brought the cane down on her other ankle as well.

Lisbon screamed again, her stomach rolling at the sight of both disfigured ankles. “Jane! Rigsby! Cho! God! Anyone! Help! Please!”  
“It’s exceedingly rude to interrupt, Teresa,” O’Laughlin snapped, pressing the tip of Carter’s cane to her chest. Lisbon blinked. “Especially, when you interrupt your superiors with talk of your fictional God. Captain Red John is the only God you need here, my dear.”

Lisbon glanced up at him, spitting at his boots for his deprecation of her Faith. “You? A degenerate, alcoholic bastard of a pirate, who submits himself to Red John?” She snorted, before he jabbed Carter’s cane (hard) into her ribcage and she winced. “Don’t mistake superior for inferior, O’Laughlin. It makes you look, as you truly are, unintelligent, belligerent and cut from the same cloth as your bastard of a father.”

O’Laughlin lost his smirk, twirling the cane within his dirty fingers. “You will pay for your disrespect, Teresa…”

“Did I hit a nerve, Craig?” Lisbon asked sardonically, ignoring the throbbing tension in her legs with a small quiver. “Because if I did, I am so sorry that I insulted your liner of masculinity in front of all your little friends. It must be so difficult to keep your habit of dick-sucking secret.” Lisbon heard Carter snort from behind O’Laughlin, forcing her to smirk at O’Laughlin’s rapidly darkening expression of anger. “Does Red John like it when you…”

Lisbon’s sentence died on her lips, as O’Laughlin lunged for her. She had no time to protect herself, as he forced her head to slam against the wooden planks of the Scarlet Oasis deck.

Everything went dark, afterwards.

::::

“No,” Cho replied; voice loud enough to carry above the drunken chaos that was the Salty Ana. The ragtag group of Scarlet Oasis pirates, excluding Jane, who sat three tables ahead of them and continued to toss down shots of rum at the bar, were enjoying a peaceful Jane-free conversation for the first time in months.

“Come on, Cho!” Rigsby pleaded, as he drank from his own beer mug. “Why not? It would be fun.”

Cho blinked at him, while Mashburn clinked down a few more doubloons for another round of house drinks. “I said no. Last time, we nearly killed three people and you injured Hightower.” Rigsby grinned sheepishly, which Kris paid no attention to. She supposed she should have been more interested in the conversation that the men were having, but she just couldn’t keep her eyes off the Captain as he plowed through his thirteenth glass with two giggling women attached to his arm.

He’s going to feel that in the morning, she thought with a wince, as she considered her own triumphs, and morning-after mistakes, with rum over the past five years. None of that had technically stopped her from pursuing a relationship with the amber-colored liquor, but it did make her somewhat more inclined to stop after her fifth consecutive drink. 

“Drink up, Kristina!” Mashburn called out to her, from between Cho and Rigsby, before Kris side-eyed his offer of another drink. “Can’t we allow bygones to be bygones?” Kris rolled her eyes at his cheesy smile, as Rigsby accepted the drink on her behalf. “Now, Wayne; that was Kristina’s. Show some decency.”

“It’s fine, really,” Kris told Rigsby, waving Mashburn’s colorful objection away. “Someone’s got to stay level-headed to babysit the Good Captain, after all.” She didn’t smile at any of them, while Rigsby downed the drink in one swift motion. She ignored his belch, and subsequent apology, in favor of scrutinizing Patrick Jane’s gathering of wenches, who were all on the cusp of undressing at his every word.

This is a fucking waste of our time, she thought with a grimace. She understood Lisbon’s concern for her Captain, especially after a relationship of nine years with the golden-haired ponce, but on the other hand, not everyone (i.e. her) had the same level of dedication and/or concern toward the idiot. While Lisbon wanted Captain Jane back on the Scarlet Oasis in one piece, Kris hoped he choked on his own vomit. 

“Idiot,” Kris muttered under her breath, eyeing Jane’s fingers disappear beneath the skirt of a tanned brunette. She nearly gagged. How could he do any of that, especially when he knew his crew sat tables behind him?

“I’ve been on this ship for seven years,” Rigsby commented from beside her. Kris had the decency to look surprised, considering she hadn’t voiced her question aloud. “I’ve done Captain Duty for the past five.” She watched him shake his head. “I’ve learned to just ignore what he does and only step in, when I think he’s had enough.” If she hadn’t been sitting next to him, she would have never heard his long-suffering sigh. “Captain of the Scarlet Oasis or not, Jane’s a womanizer.”

“Surprising, really,” Mashburn commented, almost thoughtfully. “When I knew him, years ago, he was cozy with that gorgeous wife of his. Turns out, in Patrick’s case, you don’t need to be married to become savage.”

“No,” Rigsby added. “You only need to lose your wife to a rival Pirate Captain.” The table fell silent and Kris said nothing, staring down into her half-empty glass of mead. It hadn’t taken her long to figure out Jane’s past and honestly, that’s why she understood Lisbon’s concern for her “friend.” Jane had lost everything to Captain Red John of the Red Rum, and whether it was pillaging known Red John locales or gunning after the Pirate Captain’s ship himself, the man had decided to capitalize on vengeance in every way he could. “It’ll be ten years next week. Jesus Christ.” Rigsby took another gulp of his drink. “His little girl would have been fifteen.”

Cho raised his glass slightly, after a moment of silence between the four. “To ten years.”

“To ten years,” everyone, aside from Kris, parroted.

Somewhere between Jane’s sixteenth and eighteenth shot, Kris noticed Rigsby’s wavering attention toward the secondary bar exit. She glanced at him out of curiosity, before he moved his hand to tap Cho’s shoulder. Cho glanced at him. “I’m either hallucinating or that’s O’Laughlin.” Cho glanced up from his own drink to meet Rigsby’s stare, before he turned his head in the direction of Rigsby’s own head tilt. Kris blinked and mirrored Cho’s action, but she didn’t see any person hovering around the backdoor.

“Who’s O’Laugh…?”

“Forget about it,” Rigsby hurried to interrupt. Kris turned back to Rigsby, only to find Cho shaking his head. “It isn’t important. Trust me.”

“Do you act like you’ve been shot at the mention of just any name?” Kris asked him, eyeing both Cho and Rigsby. Rigsby glanced upwards at the ceiling and Kris opened her mouth to call him on his bullshit, when Mashburn’s voice re-entered the conversation.

“Craig O’Laughlin, old Scarlet Oasis deckhand and right-hand man to Teresa,” Mashburn explained lowly. Kris leaned against Rigsby’s shoulder to listen in, trying to remember why the name Craig O’Laughlin sounded so familiar to her. “He betrayed Patrick and because of this, we don’t talk about him.”

“You all just did though,” Kris pointed out.

Rigsby ignored her. “Maybe I just thought I saw him? But he wouldn’t be that idiotic to come here, would he?”

Cho shrugged. “We don’t own this island.”

Kris rolled her eyes, before she refocused on her attention on Jane. She knew the boys would never tell her anything else about O’Laughlin, especially under the fear of Captain Patrick Jane—but she wondered if Jane would tell her anything else. She drew in a small breath, before she stood from her seat and sauntered toward Jane. With his gaggle of wenches gone, he almost looked normal—aside from the stupid little grin on his face, as the bartender sat down yet another glass of rum. Kris wrinkled her nose at him.

Dressed in his usual Captain attire, a white, buttoned-up loose shirt, paired with black tights and pirate boots, he tried to undo a button on his own shirt for her. “Hey sweeeeeeeeeeeetheart,” Jane greeted and Kris nearly gagged. He smelt like the rancid combination of cheap rum, flowery perfume and sweat; something, she half-blamed Jane’s wenches for. “Want me to r-rock your w-w-world tooooonight, baby?” Kris eyed him, unsurprised. This was her fourth time on Captain Duty and she knew from personal experience, after the tenth shot—Jane hit on everything with legs.

“Dear,” Kris yanked at the collar on his shirt, until his face was inches apart from hers. She did her best to ignore his stench. “I doubt you could find my world, let alone rock it.” She watched his lips pucker and in turn, she grabbed at his half-empty glass of liquor. Without an additional word of unintelligence from him, she emptied the glass into his face.

Jane merely smiled, ignoring the liquid dripping from his chin. “You smeeeeell…”

Kris turned on him, before she motioned for her fellow crew members to approach. Cho and Rigsby did so with Mashburn on their rear. “He’s had enough and I’m calling it at the eighteenth shot. He just hit on me and he reeks of cheap women.” Rigsby said nothing, as he and Cho each seized Jane by an arm. Mashburn kept smiling.

“Come on, Captain,” Rigsby said, grunting. “It’s time to leave, before Lisbon has our heads.” Jane said nothing, as Rigsby and Cho hauled him out from the bar and into the darkness, punctuated by flickering candlelight. Kris followed closely behind her crew, her hand pressed against the darkened hilt of her sword as she paused to lift one of her own leather high-heeled boots to kick at the back of Jane’s dragging knees.

Cho glanced at her over his left shoulder. “Hope Lisbon doesn’t find out.”

Kris scowled in return. “He deserves much more than a gentle tap to the back legs, trust me.”

“And if he has a bruise?” Rigsby asked. “You know who will be after you then, right?” Kris shrugged her shoulders at them both, before she glanced in Mashburn’s direction. Rigsby’s idle threat, if one could call his reminder a threat, wasn’t anything new considering Lisbon’s lapse in consideration that maybe she and Jane were just not meant to work together at all. “The First Mate, Kris.”

“No, really?” Kris replied dryly. “I thought we were discussing the God of the Seas.” She rolled her eyes. “Do you both honestly think he’s going to feel it or anything when morning comes? He’ll probably be nursing a giant headache from his stupidity tonight.”

“That’s not the point, Kris,” Rigsby argued, as Jane glanced over Cho’s shoulder and opened his mouth. The first few syllables out of his mouth were unintelligent rambles and Kris wondered again, why Lisbon just didn’t let the idiot drink himself to death. Obviously, the Scarlet Oasis would be without a Captain—but Kris couldn’t see the disadvantages to that, regardless of Lisbon’s adamant belief that the ship would not strive without Jane’s hand.

“I didn’t even kick him hard enough to leave a bruise,” Kris commented with a second shrug, before the group of five continued to step through the empty moonlit streets of Howl Island. She wondered if all islands, aside from Jubilee Island, were just as quiet after nightfall, or if the odd silence was a sign of a bad omen to come. Whatever the reason, Kris couldn’t take the silence, or Jane’s rambling about the unfair advantages of them all having a sword and him having nothing, even though his sword was in his own scabbard. “It’s not like I took my sword to his legs, by the way. So please, stop the lecturing before I actively decide to chop off his legs.” She shook her head, as Jane opened his mouth for the fifth time since their trek back to the Scarlet Oasis had begun. 

“We extort, we pilfer, we filch and sack…” Jane sang in a slur, forcing everyone, aside from Mashburn, to flinch. Kris nearly pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. Who in the hell had she pissed off to be stuck with the singing? Jane’s lapse back into silence became highly appreciated, until Mashburn’s own tone-deaf voice joined the melee.

“Maraud and embezzle and even high-jack…”

Kris glared at them both. “I think Lisbon would understand.” She cringed again, as one of the two hit an ungodly high note. “Especially after listening to this mess and knowing, nobody stopped him from drinking enough to put down a horse.” Rigsby turned his head slightly to glance at her and she shrugged for the third time, before he turned his head away again. “Besides, the idiot hit on me. I felt threatened.”

“Because you couldn’t take him,” Cho commented dryly.

“Lisbon wouldn’t appreciate that.”

Rigsby snorted. “As you honestly care what Lisbon thinks or appreciates, Kris.” Kris said nothing, her fingers releasing the scabbard of her sword only to curl into a fist. “You cursed Lisbon out the first time you met the Captain, for her so-called ‘bad decision making’ skills.” She continued to remain silent, to which Rigsby paused to face her again with a shit-eating grin. “Silence. What a rare commodity from you.” Kris narrowed her eyes. As much as she would have enjoyed telling Rigsby to go to hell for his comment, she knew she couldn’t. She hated lying and any argument with him, especially about Lisbon or Jane, would have forced her into lying that she actually respected them both.

“My feelings on any particular individual are none of your business,” Kris responded, after a few more minutes of silence. “You all are my Officers. When I joined the Scarlet Oasis, three years ago, I knew exactly what I was getting myself into, believe it or not.”

“But,” Rigsby continued. “You respect Lisbon and Jane a little bit less than everyone else though…”

She didn’t wait for Rigsby to finish his sentence, as she pushed herself past him; all so she could close the distance between herself and the Scarlet Oasis, long before Rigsby and Cho’s arrival with Jane and Mashburn.

The first thing Kris noticed, aside from the general lack of men-stench aboard the Scarlet Oasis, was just how eerily quiet the sea vessel was. Although bathed in both moonlight and torchlight from the docks, Kris almost regretted her decision to sprint ahead of both Cho and Rigsby.

Lisbon’s on here somewhere, Kris reminded herself contently. She supposed she should find and alert the First Mate of their immediate return, considering Lisbon would probably want to monitor Jane’s breathing habits until he passed out or something. Kris scanned the deck for Lisbon’s shadowy figure, but her eyes only caught railing and she sighed. Something (down deep in her gut) told her the search for the First Mate wouldn’t be easy, considering Lisbon had moved from the spot they had all seen her in last.

“Lisbon!” Kris called out and after a few minutes of silence, she crossed her arms against her chest in impatience. “We’re back! Or, at least, I am! Jane’s about five paces out.” The continued silence forced a knot to form in Kris’s stomach. Something didn’t feel right about this entire situation. In the past, when Kris had gone off the ship without Lisbon’s presence and had returned, she had caught the First Mate’s attention with a simple yell. Lisbon hadn’t always been appreciative of the greeting, but it had never failed her.

Until now, that was.

“Lisbon! Where are you?” The fact that the First Mate wasn’t responding to any of her calls did not help the slight wrench of her gut, especially when she approached the spot that Lisbon had once occupied only to find the boots that the First Mate usually wore, sitting out in plain sight against the railing.

Kris tilted her head. There was no way Lisbon would be desperate enough to leave the vessel without her boots, which meant, something was definitely a miss here. She tried to call for the First Mate once more, but at the third lapse of silence, Kris knew Lisbon wasn’t aboard the Scarlet Oasis and she also knew Jane was going to be pissed.

Lisbon had directly disobeyed the Captain’s orders, which nearly forced Kris into a fit of laughter. The woman had preached and preached respect and loyalty toward the blonde ass, only to turn right back around and disobey him.

Any punishment she receives, Kris thought with a smirk as she nearly doubled over from laughter, she fully deserves. Still clenching her stomach, Kris tried to imagine the Captain’s reaction—but she just couldn’t get past the fact that Lisbon—rule-abiding, goody-two-shoes Teresa Lisbon—had disobeyed her Master’s word.

Amongst the high amusement, she still felt though at Lisbon’s predicament, Kris still couldn’t help but wonder why Lisbon had just up and left without her boots. It wasn’t as if Howl Island was all grassland. In fact, a good part of the island was just sharp gravel and mud from the island’s constant rainstorms; and no intelligent individual would willingly step out into that mess, unless they felt they had no other option.

Kris took a step closer to the boots, only for something dark, a foot away, to catch her eye on the wooden planks. Her heart nearly stopped from within her chest, when she finally recognized the dark substance on the ship’s deck.

It was blood—and a sizable amount of it too, which trailed from mid-deck to just before Lisbon’s discarded boots. Someone (Lisbon?) had been bleeding and from the looks of it, the injury had been wrapped at some point as well. Kris pulled her eyes away from the trail at the sound of rumbling overhead to find the moonlight suddenly gone. If she had been any later, the trail of blood might never have been and she, personally, would have thought that the First Mate had just escaped the tyranny that was the Captain. 

Suddenly, Kris’s stomach clenched.

Had she really been happy that Lisbon might have gotten in trouble with the Captain? Just because she didn’t necessary respect the woman entirely didn’t mean Kris wanted anything bad to happen to her. Lisbon, abet challenging at times, was still a person—and nobody deserves to be beaten or punished for anything he or she did, no matter the circumstances around the punishment.

“…doubt Lisbon would be too happy if you smashed your face in, Captain,” Kris heard Cho tell Jane, as the group of four stepped onto the ship. Mashburn waved cheerfully at Kris, but she didn’t return the gesture. Instead, she moved in front of Lisbon’s boots and mustered up a small smile for the men.

Rigsby eyed her wearily. “What did you do?”

Kris almost had the decency to look offended at Rigsby’s implication. “Me? I’ve just been standing here. I can’t greet you all with a smile?”

“No,” Cho replied. “It’s creepy.” She lost her smile and grimaced at them both. Why couldn’t they have just left her “odd behavior” alone, until after they had placed Jane away for the night? The last thing any of them wanted was Jane’s massive blowout for Lisbon having ignored her orders, especially while drunk.

Or worse, Kris thought with a lurch, her abduction.

“Just…” she paused to clear her throat, which forced all three men to stare at her. “Just go put the Captain to bed first. Please.” In a normal situation, Rigsby would have argued with her—but she supposed the seriousness in her voice forced both men into doing her simple request without argument.

“You missed the end of our grand duet, Kristina,” Mashburn commented, approaching her with a grand smile. Kris stared at him. “Alright, you’re obviously dying. There’s no way the Kristina I know would miss a chance to hassle me.”

“For the love of God, Walter,” Kris snapped. He tilted his head to the side to stare at her, a frown maring his features at her sudden outburst. “Shut the fuck up!” Mashburn eyed her cautiously, before he peered over her shoulder and his frown deepened.

“Aren’t those Teresa’s boots?” Mashburn asked. “Why are you hiding her boots?” Kris said nothing, ignoring all of Mashburn’s questions until Rigsby and Cho rejoined them both on the deck.

“He in the bed?” Kris asked Rigsby and Cho, forcing Mashburn to shoot her a dirty look. Cho nodded and Rigsby grimaced. “Good, because…” Kris turned to grab the shoes from behind her and then dangled them in front of her. “I think something bad happened to her.”


	2. Chapter 2

Seeing Lisbon’s dark, leather boots dangling from Kris’s left hand nearly forced Rigsby’s light dinner of booze and chicken to churn dangerously within his stomach. The slight eye widening from Mashburn and Cho’s rapid blinking told him they were  _ all  _ in similar states of disbelief at Lisbon’s apparent “abduction” from the Scarlet Oasis.

“You think?” Cho questioned, dryly. Rigsby shot him a sideward glance. “Did the lone pair of boots give it away?  _ Or  _ did you notice that Lisbon’s obviously not in them?”

Kris grimaced, as she dropped the boots back onto the deck with a heavy  _ thump _ . “I don’t appreciate being intoned as a bumbling fool, Cho.” She paused to stare at them all, still grimacing. “Didn’t you all mention…?”

“Craig O’Laughlin,” Mashburn interrupted. “That sick, son of a bitch.” Rigsby said nothing, though his stomach churned again. Had the brunette vignette from the Salty Ana earlier been the snarky, five-foot-seven pirate, who had nearly killed Lisbon once? Rigsby glanced at Cho in question and as usual, Cho’s only response to his silent question  _ had that been O’Laughlin  _ was a shrug.

“The guy, who betrayed Jane?” Kris asked and Rigsby ignored her. “Why would  _ he  _ go after Lisbon and not Jane, especially when a  _ drunken  _ Jane would be far easier to take than Lisbon?” She continued to grimace. “Come on, guys. Have  _ some  _ logic here.”

Cho ignored Kris too, choosing to blink at him instead. “The Captain’ll be pissed.”

Mashburn stomped his foot against the deck, forcing attention back on himself. “That’s really all you can say? Teresa’s  _ obviously  _ been kidnapped and all you can say is…is… _ that _ ?” Rigsby turned to glance at Mashburn, who moved to cross his arms against his chest. His movement immediately shielded his gaudy vest from sight. “We need to find her! Davy Jones only knows what the bastard’s doing to her!” Mashburn uncrossed his arms and tried to step past Cho, who shook his head and grabbed Mashburn’s upper arm.

“We have little to no proof that O’Laughlin’s behind this,” Cho stated, dropping his hand from Mashburn’s upper arm at the brunette’s grimace. “You run off here without all of the facts; there’s a possibility you won’t be coming back in one piece.” Rigsby agreed. While, for the most part, they could  _ come and go _ from island to island on the Scarlet Oasis without trouble—one never knew when disaster or trouble would strike. Lisbon’s supposed disappearance was one thing, but Mashburn’s disappearance would put a halt to  _ any  _ chance of a rescue, as Mashburn’s vast pocketbook was the only reason they were all still sailing. “You leave; the Captain’ll skin us alive.”

“Jane’ll  _ also  _ skin you alive when he sees the splatter of blood,” Kris added, motioning downwards with her hands. Rigsby followed her gesturing, only to spot the splattering of dried blood across the Scarlet Oasis’s deck. He cursed aloud, drawing curious glances from Kris, Cho and Mashburn. Out of all the fucking scenarios he had imagined over the last six years as a crew officer of the Scarlet Oasis, he hadn’t exactly prepared himself (or anyone else) for a possible abduction and/or subsequent torture of their First Mate. Feeling a slight pressure building up from behind his eyes, he turned to Kris—who, as per usual, was continuing to speak as if she held  _ any  _ ounce of power upon the vessel.

“…scout the island…”

“Will you be quiet for one  _ goddamn  _ minute?” Rigsby snapped, immediately forcing Kris’s head to jerk back, her hazel eyes staring at him in apparent shock. “You have absolutely no fucking clue what’s going on here anymore than we do.” He eyed her mouth opening and he continued, before she could comment again. “So, if you  _ want  _ to help; just keep your mouth shut, until we’ve discussed a viable plan of action here.” Kris’s mouth snapped shut and Mashburn, standing next to Cho, grimaced.

“Wayne,” Mashburn softly chided, which forced Rigsby to roll his eyes. “Kristina’s merely concerned. Don’t be so boorish.”

“Concerned for  _ what  _ exactly?” Rigsby shot back. “Her own passage upon the Scarlet Oasis?” He paused to snort and cross his arms against his chest. “We  _ all  _ know the only reason she’s still here is because, Lisbon took  _ pity  _ on the  _ poor, little  _ emotionally-damaged girl, who washed up on the shore of Jubilee Island three years ago…”

Kris, to her credit, had the decency to, at least, look offended. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Rigsby continued lowly, before turning to stare at the young brunette, who had her teeth bared at him. “Against better judgment or formal consideration, Jane took  _ your sort _ aboard…”

“ _ My sort _ ?” Kris questioned, narrowing her eyes. “I’d watch what you say to me, Wayne.” Rigsby didn’t back down from her, though Mashburn took two steps backwards. “In case you’ve forgotten, you’re one of  _ my sorts  _ too.” Rigsby felt his face redden at her casual reminder of his torrid past, but before he could reply, she continued onwards. “Just because  _ you’re  _ like your jackass of a father doesn’t mean our _ entire _ sort is.”

He clenched his fists together tightly and thought,  _ apathetic bitch _ , with a grimace. Rigsby couldn’t help but wonder how  _ happy  _ the brunette was at Lisbon’s disappearance, considering the lack of First Mate Lisbon meant no more  _ asinine  _ tasks for the crewmember of three years. No more babysitting Jane on his drinking excursions, no more supply runs with Mashburn, no more little mundane tasks meant to test her so-called patience and exhaust her loyalty. “Bet you’re  _ happy  _ she’s gone too. Plotting to take over her position, so you can have the good Captain  _ all  _ to yourself…”

Kris continued to bare her teeth. “Do I  _ look  _ happy, jackass?”

“I don’t know,” Rigsby replied coolly. “You look the same; apathetic to a fault and backstabbing.” Kris opened her mouth, when Cho stepped between the both of them. Towering over Cho, he couldn’t help but shoot the shaking brunette female a cool smirk.

“How is this honestly helping right now?” Cho asked quietly, forcing Rigsby to shove his hands into his pockets. “Lisbon’s gone. Fighting about it with each other isn’t going to bring her back, is it?”

“No,” Mashburn chimed in, before either he or Kris could respond to Cho’s snap judgment. “So, stop this foolishness and be adults. Teresa’s life depends on it.”

From his angle, Rigsby watched Kris side-eye Mashburn. “Says the man in the  _ rhinestone vest  _ that distinctly reminds me of something my mother dressed me in as a little girl.” Mashburn frowned, before Kris sighed. “Alright, Mashburn,  _ alright _ . I see your point. I’ll stop. Don’t get your trousers in a bunch on  _ my  _ account; we’ll save your precious girlfriend by  _ not  _ fighting.”

If not for Cho’s unwavering stare, Rigsby would have rolled his eyes at her refusal to apologize, or actually be  _ human _ , in general. “Yeah, Lisbon needs us.”

“Glad you both can finally agree on something,” Cho replied dryly, stepping from in-between them to glance back downward at the blood splatter. “Doubt Lisbon would be too happy if she discovered the both of you squabbling.” Rigsby eyed Cho for a moment in deliberation. Did the Sailing Master actually  _ think  _ Lisbon would probably still be on the island? He voiced his silent question without hesitation and at Cho’s nod, he laughed.

“Lisbon’s  _ long  _ gone by now, trust me.”  _ If  _ O’Laughlin had taken her, Rigsby knew he wouldn’t stay on the island long enough to be pegged—the brunette pirate would already be in the distance, as the strategy of any war wasn’t about  _ patience _ . It was about being steps ahead of your opponents, something O’Laughlin had obviously learned from Jane’s hand. He eyed Mashburn’s open mouth, before Rigsby held out his hand to stop the crew officer from finishing his thought. “You don’t wait around with your prisoner to see the opposing team’s first course of action; you prepare directly for the counterattack.”

“Especially, if she’s aboard the Red Rum,” Cho added and everyone grew silent. Rigsby’s grimace deepened. He had heard the  _ same  _ tale from one of the scraggly bar patrons, islands ago, but he had immediately dismissed the baseless rumor—O’Laughlin, in the six months that the man had sailed with them, hadn’t exactly played well with the ideals of anyone on the Scarlet Oasis. So, the idea of him  _ sailing  _ with Captain Red John was laughable at best as the pirate didn’t take orders well.

“ _ That’s  _ where I’ve heard that name before,” Kris interrupted the silence, abruptly. Rigsby tilted his head to stare down at her. “Craig O’Laughlin, son of Marcus O’Laughlin. He supposedly killed his mother, after his engagement to Governor Bertram’s daughter fell through.” Rigsby’s silence continued.

“Supposedly is a strong term,” Mashburn replied sullenly; to which Rigsby silently agreed. “We’ve all heard those stories. The Port Authority didn’t arrest him immediately, because Daddy was an influential flounce.” He felt the continued stare from Kris. “It’s a shame, really. He would have looked appropriate with a noose around his good-for-nothing neck.” Mashburn grimaced.

“Yeah, O’Laughlin got off lucky,” Cho replied.

“Lisbon took pity on him.” The silence  _ too  _ was clearly audible between all parties, but Kris’s lack of retort made him weary. Mashburn’s side-glance, however, told him they’d be having a discussion later about his general dislike of the brunette pirate. He almost considered telling Mashburn to go to hell, but he also knew how naïve the idiot could be. The four fell silent again, until Kris crossed her arms against her chest and pinched her lips together.

“What do we do now?”

Cho turned to eye her. “We obviously tell the Captain.” Rigsby swallowed roughly, before he glanced at the Sailing Master in silent surprise. Had the man lost his mind? Telling Jane about Lisbon’s disappearance,  _ especially  _ when he was hungover, spelled disaster for each of the crew officers; and Rigsby was not looking forward to  _ any  _ of it.

“I don’t know if telling him should be the first thing on our agenda,” Mashburn answered, hesitantly. “You all, with the exception of Kristina, remember the last time, yeah?” Rigsby grimaced again, as Kris glanced at Mashburn. “Long before you, Kristina, there were two female crewmembers. Rebecca was her name, and she didn’t exactly have any standing on the crew.” Mashburn paused. “We docked onto a well-known Red John influenced port and afterwards, we never saw her again.”

“At first,” Cho continued. “We thought she had been kidnapped. Years later, we can really only speculate what happened to her.” Rigsby eyed Cho. They knew  _ exactly  _ what had happened to her; she had willingly joined the Red Rum. After a while of searching and information hunting, mainly on Lisbon’s part, Captain Red John had sent a message to them all detailing Rebecca’s fall from grace. But of course, Kris didn’t need to know any of that.

Kris tilted her head. “Is that why he drinks? Were they lovers?” Rigsby nearly doubled over from laughter at the thought of Rebecca and Jane going at it. Kris grimaced at him. “I’m curious, alright? You all shut me out of most ship-related conversations, so how would I know?”

“Captain Jane’s orders, Kris.”

“And big-headed Jane has always had the best judgment, hasn’t he?” Kris asked sardonically. Rigsby had to bite his tongue at her blatant disrespect for the Captain; Jane  _ had  _ his flaws, but God, if they all wouldn’t die for the rat bastard of a Captain. “Do I need to remind you all of the time he attempted to  _ sell  _ Lisbon to the Port Authority? Or how, when he first met me, he considered me a prostitute?”

Rigsby couldn’t help his snide comment at her sarcasm, “You aren’t? Could have fooled me.”

He felt her intense stare. “When did you turn into such a  _ fucking  _ saint, Wayne? Were those two blondes you welcomed onto our ship, last month,  _ just friends _ ? Was the screaming  _ we all heard  _ just one of them slamming your dick into the door on accident?” He watched her cross her arms against her chest, while he attempted to calm his temper. “Pretty  _ sure  _ their red complexions weren’t from too many pull-ups.” He scowled. He had said absolutely  _ nothing  _ to her about all of the men, and women, she had been taking aboard the ship, but apparently, she could mention all of his transgressions and get away with it? He gritted his teeth. He’d go to hell, before she treated him much like she treated Jane. Or, as the younger crewmember had once treated Lisbon.

“What I do is none of your goddamn business,” Rigsby retorted.

“It  _ is _ , especially when we all hear it,” Kris answered, rolling her eyes. “So,  _ please  _ spare us the entire fucking lecture on your  _ saintliness  _ and go fuck…”

“Stop this immature behavior, immediately!” Mashburn bellowed, forcing Rigsby to turn his head toward the disgruntled Crew Officer. “Teresa’s off—God only knows where—quite possibly being  _ tortured  _ by Craig O’Laughlin and you both are too  _ busy  _ discussing your torrid sex lives. Show some goddamn respect, both of you. Patrick may not deserve it, but I won’t let this pettiness cost Teresa her life.” Rigsby eyed Kris’s mouth closing from the corner of his eye, to which the corner of his lips quirked upwards in stifled amusement.

“I’ve found from past experience, Walter,” Rigsby commented. “In order to actively  _ show  _ respect toward Lisbon, our  _ dearest  _ Kristina would actually need to  _ show  _ some respect toward our First Mate in the first place.” He paused to stare at Kris, who seemed more than ready to rip his head from his body. “Which, we  _ all  _ know, she doesn’t have.” To his surprise, the brunette pet product of Lisbon’s said nothing at his jest – but Mashburn’s grimace told him, the fellow Crew Officer wasn’t amused.

“Wayne, Kristina’s showing a flicker of respect by wanting to find Lisbon,” Mashburn said, also rolling his eyes. “You’re just complaining about a perceived injustice, which as usual, is unhelpful and quite frustrating.”

“Nobody cares who you’ve slept with,” Cho replied, disinterestedly.

“Besides,” Mashburn added, probably having seen his scowl. “She’s putting you in your place, which is something you desperately need to learn. Do  _ not  _ go around and act as if you were a gentleman toward First Mate Lisbon; because I can personally assure you, Wayne, you weren’t.”

Wincing, Rigsby coughed into his hand at the stares. Just because he and Lisbon hadn’t  _ always  _ seen eye-to-eye didn’t mean he didn’t care about her – or hadn’t treated her with the respect she fully deserved, woman or not.

“Delude yourself,” Cho said, as if the stoic officer had read his mind. “But Mashburn’s right. You’ve challenged Lisbon directly to her face before; even pushing her down the deck steps once.”

Rigsby’s eyes flew to Cho’s. “That was an accident!” Cho’s glance told him  _ nobody  _ was believing his claim for a moment, even if the tripping had been a complete accident on Lisbon’s behalf.

“You  _ pushed  _ her?” Kris finally asked Rigsby, after the silence had continued on for several minutes. Rigsby grimaced. He didn’t need the bitch’s approval or understanding. “And I thought I was the most disrespectful around here to the First Mate, especially with the way you kept trotting on me.”

“It was an accident! Lisbon had been standing a bit too close, okay?” From Kris’s glance, he knew she didn’t believe him either – but he didn’t exactly care about her opinion. The fact of the matter was that he had always treated Lisbon with the utmost respect deserving of her stupid decisions made in tandem with Jane. “Just…” He paused and grimaced. He didn’t need to explain himself to anyone! “Whatever. This is a waste of our time.”

“You shouldn’t…”

“I shouldn’t what?” He interrupted Kris without care. “Question her judgment? Ask questions? Ensure my safety and the safety of others as long as she’s under Jane’s thrall?” Everyone stared at him. “I’m sorry, Kris, but I didn’t join this crew to throw my own life away at the hands of others. Nobody will  _ ever  _ say it, but you know we’re all thinking it.” Rigsby turned away from them all to stare out into the turbulent dark waters, embarrassed by his outburst. Jane had been forcing them all to throw away their lives  _ for years  _ for his never-ending quest for vengeance, and yet,  _ he  _ – Officer Wayne Rigsby – was the villain for trying to make Lisbon see  _ exactly  _ what mistake she had gotten herself entangled with? “Hate to say it, but Lisbon’s probably far safer with O’Laughlin than we are with Jane at this point.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Mashburn argued, but the lack of a response from both Cho and Kris told him otherwise. “Captain Jane cares.”

“Yeah, sure,” Rigsby answered with a snort. “See where that so-called caring gets us in about six or so months, Walter. Especially when Lisbon’s found  _ dead _ , hanging from the Red Rum’s mast, and Jane’s only caring about himself as usual.”

Before anyone could say another word, Rigsby moved below the ship’s deck.

::::

Jane sneered, as he braced his left forearm against his eyelids to keep the fragmented sunlight from reaching his sensitive eyes. His mouth and throat felt dry, while his entire body ached and he felt an acute pounding at the base of his skull; he drank often enough usually to be aware the next day, but lying in bed, he felt more like shit. Clenching the blood-red curtains that lined his bed, his stomach churned and he cursed himself for having let loose further than usual.

“God Damnit,” Jane muttered. Why had Lisbon put Rigsby, Cho, Mashburn and Kris in charge of his damned drinking habits? None of them obviously cared enough for him to stop him at a certain point as Lisbon would have, which would have left him fuming, and ready to take his First Mate to task, on any other day. However, today was not a day for fuming. It was a day for lazing around and having the crew commit to his every whim. The thought of yelling at someone filled him with a certain amount of joy, which did nothing to help his churning stomach. He waited to hear the shrill voice of his First Mate ring in his ears, but after several moments of silence, he grew tense. Where in the hell was his First Mate? Why wasn’t she already at his side, providing him with water? Or with food?

“Lisbon!” Jane called out, his voice raspy from disuse. He waited to hear her heavy-booted footsteps outside his Quarter door or the sound of her yelling at him, just to worsen his headache, but neither sound came. He grimaced and with the assistance of his blood-red bed curtains, pulled himself into an upright position against the headboard. “Lisbon! Once again, you’ve outdone yourself! I’m in physical pain this time, and if you’re not down here, so will you!” He paused again to hear her scrambling, as the threat, although, he’d never act on it, seemed to always kick her ass into high gear; but all he heard, again, was silence. Somehow, it unnerved him. In the nine years of their working relationship, Lisbon had never once ignored him and the idea of her doing so made him clench his fists together and pull himself from the bed. She was going to pay for making him move around, especially when she knew he was going to be in a bad disposition.

Throwing open his quarter doors and hearing the splintering of the wood, his skull vibrated and the sun nearly blinded him. Throwing up an arm again to shield himself from the light, he almost immediately heard snickering in the distance. Jane grimaced, before he mounted the set of steps onto the deck only to be bombarded with  _ “are you quite all right, Captain? _ ” Jane brushed off the questions with a wave of his hand, before he turned to capture the gaze of the individual, who had thought it smart to snicker at his predicament.

Of course, it turned out to be Kristina. Leaning against the railing of his ship, her copious breasts forced upwards by the ship’s railing, he took a moment to appreciate the figure of the brunette before him – tight tan trousers, which left little to his imagination, and her even tighter grey V-neck, which clung to her curvy waist from the perspiration—and his mouth watered slightly. Annoying or not, he couldn’t help but leer quietly for a few moments. “Fucker, my eyes are up here.” Jane didn’t immediately take a step backwards and her eyes went downward. “Typical. You’d think I’d be used to this from you, but no; I still stand out here, after every fucking drinking session you go on, only to be  _ hit  _ on by your ass.” He watched her roll her eyes and snort, before he stepped closer. “Oh god, no. Stay the hell away from me, at least, until after you’ve been dropped in the ocean for a few hours. You reek.” 

He ignored the crinkle of her nose. “Shut the hell up, Kristina. Where’s Lisbon?” At his question, Kris immediately moved from the ship’s railing to stare at him before she tilted her head.

“You mean, she’s  _ not  _ in your bed?” Kristina asked. “My mistake. I thought it was that time of day.” Jane narrowed his eyes as he watched Kristina shove her hands into her pockets with a smirk. “Personally, I’ve  _ seen  _ First Mate Lisbon naked. I’d certainly be fishing around for someone new if it were me,  _ Captain _ . Maybe, someone who has a little bit more of a backside—and backbone. Just a thought though.” Jane gritted his teeth together. “I like classy, not cheap.”

“Who’s cheap?” Rigsby’s voice popped into the conversation and Jane turned to eye the Officer, grimacing.

“You, Rigsby,” Kris replied with a smile. “However, the  _ good Captain  _ has an excellent question for you.” Before Jane could say anything redeeming, Kristina turned on her heels and disappeared down the steps.  _ One of these days _ , he thought to himself,  _ I’m going to kill her _ .

Instead of allowing Rigsby’s mouth to open at Kristina’s comment, he turned to glance at his Officer. “Where’s my First Mate, Rigsby?” Rigsby’s eyes shifted and for a moment, Jane waited for Rigsby’s announcement that Lisbon had  _ disobeyed  _ his orders by leaving the ship.

“Sir,” Rigsby started slowly and Jane tilted his head, curiosity eating at him. Where  _ was  _ his First Mate? “Lisbon’s….she’s…there’s no easy way of…” The original amusement of Lisbon’s absence was starting to fade and the longer Rigsby dribbled on, the more impatient he became.

“I don’t appreciate these games, Officer Rigsby,” Jane interrupted coolly. “Get to the point or you’ll be on guard duty for the next two months.” That particular threat had always been one of his favorites, especially in the dead of winter and summer and from Rigsby’s expression; he knew the brunette crewmember would absolutely hate being forced into the crow’s nest.

“Well, sir,” Rigsby finally continued, stammering. “The thing is…well…Lisbon’s been taken and we’re not really sure where she is.” The Crew Officer seemed to draw into himself at the announcement, as if waiting for  _ something  _ to happen – but Jane’s reaction was to huff. Had she really been kidnapped? Or had she just stupidly walked off the ship without forewarning?

“Taken?” Jane repeated slowly, eyeing his crewmember. “Doubtful. Go check the island; Lisbon’s probably off enjoying a quickie. Woman couldn’t get through the day without a hand down her pants.” He smiled at his underlying comment. It was a shame that nobody could truly understand the interworking of his First Mate, aside from him. “And you call yourself my Officer, Wayne. You don’t even properly investigate this claim, before you’re raising cane.” From the corner of his eye, he caught Cho’s movement and he sighed again. “What, Officer Cho?”

Cho said nothing, aside from moving to stand where Kris had been earlier. Jane waited for the Officer to speak, but the man’s hand only pointed downwards on the deck.

“Have you all decided to become daft?” Jane asked, throwing his arms in the air.

“Sir,” Cho replied. “Look.” Taking pity on Cho’s direction, Jane stepped closer and followed the Officer’s glance only to find the bloodstained wood paneling that he had  _ just  _ demanded Lisbon clean almost a fortnight ago. His temper boiled. How could the stupid bitch get her blood all over the deck? “First Mate Lisbon was kidnapped, Captain. It’s not a joke.”

Jane counted to ten, his fist clenching at his side, before he unsheathed his sword and had the sharp blade pressed to Rigsby’s neck – all in fewer than ten seconds. Rigsby, to the man’s credit, didn’t flinch. “Give me five  _ excellent  _ reasons why I shouldn’t behead you all now?”

“This wasn’t entirely our fault!” Rigsby responded, his voice wavering. Jane narrowed his eyes. “She’d still be here, if you hadn’t decided on drinking your woes away as  _ once again _ , you failed to kill Red John.”

Jane applied more pressure, seething. “You would dare to blame your Captain?”

“No,” Rigsby said. “I blame my Captain’s behaviors, as I doubt Captain Red John would have allowed any of his crew members to be kidnapped. Let alone his  _ First Mate _ .” Rigsby gave him a shove, ignoring the bead of red that trickled down his neckline. “You just  _ had  _ to go out and drink, leaving First Mate Lisbon to her own devices.” Jane’s temper flared. Raging headache or not, he  _ knew  _ Lisbon had disobeyed his direct orders from the start—if she had kept Mashburn onboard, as he had ordered, she’d probably still be with them all right now. However, he  _ knew  _ he’d garner no support if he automatically passed the baton of Lisbon’s kidnapping to the so-called victim. No, if he wanted support and loyalty – he had to do this right and that meant, no shaming or victimizing Lisbon. Of course, he had no idea how she could be  _ so  _ reckless. Lisbon knew that she had plenty of enemies just waiting to get their hands on her, so they could either taunt him or teach her a lesson worth remembering. He said nothing for a few moments, his eyes narrowed. His crew had also failed him and Lisbon’s blood on the deck was a symbol of his and her collective failures; and someone had to pay for Lisbon’s disappearance.

“Who has her?” Jane asked, ignoring Rigsby’s jab. Rigsby almost appeared confused and Jane rolled his eyes, before he turned to Cho, who crossed his arms against his chest. Cho’s head moved side-to-side slightly and Jane knew, without words, who exactly had taken Lisbon from  _ his  _ ship. “Craig O’Laughlin has my first mate?”

“Captain…” Rigsby began.

“Did you both  _ see  _ Craig O’Laughlin?” Jane asked, his tone dark.

“Yes, sir,” Cho answered briskly. “We didn’t know it was him.”

Jane’s nostrils immediately flared. “You saw him and you didn’t shoot him? I don’t care if he was the Governor of Howl Island; you should have unloaded your barrel into him! No questions asked, no second guessing – how could any of you have fucked up so badly?” Jane knew, for a fact, both men carried various weapons on them and the fact O’Laughlin had  _ walked past them all  _ without having a wound to show for his troubles forced Jane’s hand. “You all ignored my specific orders and because of your blunders, he now has her. So, no Rigsby, it is  _ not  _ my fault. If I had seen him, we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.”

“Uh, well, we don’t exactly know  _ if  _ he has her.” Jane shot him a withering glare. How  _ stupid  _ were they not to connect the fucking dots, as far as O’Laughlin’s appearance and Lisbon’s disappearance were concerned? It didn’t take much for anyone to connect the dots. “Sir.”

“Either way,” Cho continued. “We need to do something.”

“Well, obviously!” Jane retorted, throwing his arms up in the air again. His sword clattered to the ground and Rigsby stepped backwards. “And because  _ you  _ two put her into this current predicament of being O’Laughlin’s  _ guest _ , you’re both going to find a way to get her out of it.” Jane glanced at Cho, who glanced toward Rigsby. Neither male seemed too happy at the prospect of being held responsible for Lisbon’s state, but Jane didn’t care. They weren’t about to blame  _ him  _ for their failures, especially on his ship.

Jane ignored Rigsby’s blithering response, before focusing on Cho’s reproach. “Sir, might I suggest finding a temporary first mate first? You will need the assistance.” Jane said nothing for a moment, placing his forefinger and thumb against his chin. He supposed Cho’s suggestion had merits and he bent over to retrieve his sword, narrowly missing the relieved glance from Rigsby. Angry or not; he knew Cho had a valid point, as there was no way he would be able to Captain the ship, search for Lisbon and attend to the general day-to-day duties of a First Mate as well.

“I suppose, you have a point,” Jane commented, storing his weapon away. “What are my options?” He heard Rigsby’s sigh and Jane couldn’t help but eye the Crew Officer in contempt. He knew Cho wouldn’t be idiotic enough to suggest  _ their  _ names on the table, but he also wouldn’t put it past Rigsby. “I don’t have all day, men.”

“Walter, sir,” Rigsby answered and Jane eyed him, immediately snorting at the idea of  _ Walter Mashburn  _ as his First Mate. Mashburn had his days as an Officer on their fine vessel, but the man was hopeless outside of his massive fortune. Lisbon’s pick as his First Mate, years ago, had been a no-brainer. Her connections across many of the islands had given them prime access to resources and information to Red John’s haunts, something he knew full damn well that Walter Mashburn did not have. “He’s followed the First Mate around for years, sir.”

“Not for on-the-job-training, I assure you,” Jane snidely replied. Mashburn had mostly been a degenerate skirt hound and his flirtatious behaviors would garner far more enemies than friends – and right now, they needed allies. “Next?”

“How about Ron?” Rigsby offered again, glancing upwards toward the Crow’s Nest where Ron silently took watch.

“No,” Jane dismissed. “Ron has no connections. He is best suited for his role, currently.” Although the man had always been extremely loyal to him and the cause, Ron had never been sociable with anyone aside from Lisbon. “Anybody else?” Jane watched Rigsby shake his head, before his mouth opened slightly.

“I can’t think of anyone else, unless you use someone from the crew,” Rigsby said and Jane mulled the thought over, before he too shook his head at the ludicrous suggestion from the Crew Officer.

“Lisbon would have my head, if she discovered I allowed just anyone to fill her boots.” Perhaps the old Lisbon would have had his head for a thoughtless decision, but the Lisbon he had been grooming for years would have just accepted his decision without thought. A small smile crossed Jane’s lips. He was going to miss having his First Mate agree with his every decision and whim.

“Captain,” Cho finally added and Jane turned to glance at him. “There is another suggestion, if you are looking for someone, who actively has connections across all of the islands.” Jane watched Rigsby’s jaw drop from the corner of his vision, before the Crew Officer threw himself into the conversation with something akin to anger.

“No! No way in hell!”

Jane couldn’t pretend he wasn’t a  _ little  _ bit amused at Rigsby’s outburst. “If Rigsby’s angry, you’ve caught my interest. Who?” Jane stepped toward Cho, while Rigsby bated his breath.

“Kristina,” Cho replied without hesitation. Jane said nothing, although he cocked his eyebrows in surprise. Kristina hadn’t garnered many friends on the vessel, due to her lack of compassion or compliance toward the First Mate; however, the First Mate position had never been about popularity, as nobody had approved of Lisbon’s appointment at first, either. “She’s not a stranger to this crew, Captain.”

“No,” Rigsby replied. “She’s irritating as hell.” Jane watched Rigsby hold up his fingers, ticking off each of the brunette’s fatal flaws. “She’s also irresponsible, rude and a know-it-all.”

“I thought the same of you, Officer Rigsby,” Jane answered to silence the gaping Crew Officer.

“She’s a fast learner,” Cho defended quietly and Jane had to nod. He’d never say it aloud, but Cho had a valid point. Kristina had come aboard the ship at Lisbon’s word, yet Jane had kept her aboard at her inexpensive wages. An increase in position more than likely wouldn’t mean he’d need to dig into his coffers and pay her extra, or so he hoped anyway. “She’s also extremely outspoken; this could be beneficial, as we could regain our reputation as a ship not to be reckoned with.”

“If you do this, Captain,” Rigsby argued, before Jane could reply. “The entire crew  _ will  _ mutiny. She’s not well liked and her treatment of Lisbon was deplorable at best.” Jane ignored him, turning to Cho as Rigsby continued to prattle on.

“Do you think she’s up for the challenge?”

“Yes. I stake my reputation as your Navigator on it.” Cho’s response had Jane immediately sold on the idea of Kristina becoming his first mate, and so, he turned to Rigsby.

“Go and get her,” Jane interrupted Rigsby’s tirade. Rigsby narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth again, probably to rebuke his Captain—which had Jane’s temper rising. “I don’t think I misspoke, Wayne. I’ve been extremely lenient today, considering the massive screw-up we’re all facing at the moment. Do not test my patience.” When Rigsby refused to move, Jane moved his own hand toward his sword. That simple motion seemed to have the Crew Officer scrambling for the Crew Quarters. Motioning for Cho to follow him, both men disappeared down into his Quarters. Jane did not hesitate on collapsing into his chair, forcing Cho to stand behind him with his hands by his side. “Do you think she’s…?”

Cho, to his credit, didn’t hesitate. “Yeah, I do.” Jane blinked in surprise. “He’ll keep her alive, if only to make us assume the worst. I wouldn’t worry, Captain; we’ll find her.”

“You had best hope so,” Jane threw, ignoring his pounding headache in favor of clinging to his livid state of rage. “If not, I’ll have a new trophy upon my walls.” Cho said nothing at the threat and Jane sighed; threatening Cho had never been fun, considering everything seemed to bounce off the Crew Officer. “Do you honestly believe Kristina is the best choice?”

He heard Cho shuffle behind him. “Kristina is the most reasonable choice. It doesn’t matter what I think.”

“And the possibility of a mutiny?”

“You aren’t blind, Captain,” Cho replied. “You know the crew doesn’t look upon you too highly. Their opinions of you aren’t going to dramatically change overnight, just because you’ve decided to change the game.” Jane said nothing, as he knew exactly how the crew felt about him and he pounded his fist onto the desk. Cho ignored it. “Lisbon didn’t garner you any favors and to speak candidly, Captain, if the crew hasn’t mutinied by now—I believe you’ll be fine.”

“So, you don’t think anything will change around here then?”

“I think you’ll have your hands full by taking Kristina on, Captain,” Cho said. “She isn’t going to agree with you on everything and she also doesn’t have any respect for you.”

“Nobody likes me at first,” Jane commented with a grin. “I tend to grow on people.” Cho’s lack of response had him chuckling. “You should lighten up, Kimball. Regardless of how our paths crossed, you and I  _ both  _ know my employment of you was a lenient gift. You should remember your place, Officer.” He didn’t offer a glance backwards at Cho to see if the man had understood his underlying message, as the knock at his Quarter doors had him at his fullest attention. “I must say, Cho, this is a first. Nobody has ever knocked before.”

“You’ve never threatened our lives before, Captain.”

Jane hummed in response, before he called out for the individuals to step into his Quarters. The heavy doors swung inward with a loud  _ thump _ and again, he caught sight of Kristina, looking no worse for wear, with Rigsby on her heels. He waved his hand toward Rigsby, which had the Crew Officer shutting the door behind him. “Sit down, Kristina.”

“I honestly must say, I’m disappointed in you,” Kristina started, taking the offered seat across from him. “I expected heads to roll, a bloodbath and several limbs ripped from Rigsby’s body; instead, I get told you want to see me? Whatever happened to your cavalier behavior,  _ Captain _ ?” Jane glanced upwards at Rigsby, who stood behind Kristina with a grimace. One pointed look at Rigsby, however, had the man disappearing from behind Kristina and flanking his other side. Content at the respect, he ignored Kristina leaning forward and pressing her elbows against his pristine desktop.

“Let’s talk, Kristina.”

“Isn’t that what we’re doing, sir?” Kristina asked, innocence coloring her voice. “Chatting, while our  _ dearest  _ First Mate is being tortured?” He could hear the sarcasm in her voice and with a small smile; he knew Kristina would be a suitable replacement for Lisbon’s position. “Because, you know, it’s not like we don’t have  _ more  _ important things to be doing than just sitting here.” Jane bit his tongue, while she continued to prattle on about Lisbon’s disappearance as if none of them had ever truly cared about the brunette First Mate. “…beaten and personally, as a Captain, I wouldn’t want that on my conscience…”

“Lest you forget, Kristina,” Jane interrupted, ignoring Kristina’s look of exasperation. “You had little respect for our dearest First Mate. Pretending to care when you don’t is something I and my fellow Crew Officers refuse to tolerate.” Kristina’s mouth opened slightly and Jane leaned forward, catching her attention once more and forcing her mouth to close. “I’m not going to repeat myself, Kristina. You came onto the Scarlet Oasis and have remained aboard, because of Lisbon’s supposed respect for you—the very least you can do is repay her by showing an ounce of respect at her current disappearance.”

As he expected, Kristina was quick to snap back. “ _ Me _ ? You’re reminding me of my disrespect for Lisbon, when you’ve injured her  _ various  _ times in the name of the Scarlet Oasis?” He watched the young woman have a fit of laughter. “You’re hilarious, Jane! You and Lisbon might think you’re hiding the bruises, but I’ve  _ been  _ where Lisbon is…”

“Are you insinuating that I’ve hit Lisbon beyond what is absolutely necessary, Kristina?” It was Jane’s turn to interrupt. “I don’t deny that I’ve taken a hand to my crewmembers over the years, but I’ve never done it out of pleasure.”

“My father used to say the same thing, you know?” Kristina told him lowly. “He used to say, “I don’t take pleasure in this, my dearest daughter,” before he’d take a belt to me.” Jane watched Kristina shiver and he merely blinked in her direction. “You know what he’d do afterwards, Jane? He’d fucking  _ smile  _ at me, as if I  _ deserved  _ being beaten within an inch of my life. Sound familiar?” Jane said nothing for a moment. He had never once taken a belt to Lisbon out of his pleasure for hearing her scream; it had been for the sole purpose of keeping the crew in line and Lisbon had always understood that. Kristina’s misunderstanding of how he ran his ship was one of the first things he’d have to change about her, as he couldn’t have a First Mate believing that he’d  _ purposely  _ abuse his crew for any reason at all. “So, if we’re not here to discuss your treatment of your poor crew. Why  _ am  _ I here then?” He took a deep breath. He also knew, with the possibility of extending this offer to her, she’d dismiss the offer immediately—and he’d be stuck without an appropriate first mate. “I don’t have all day, sir. I’m expected to help Ron later on.”

“You won’t be helping Ron later on, Kristina,” Jane immediately replied and Kristina tilted her head to the side. “Because, I’d like for you to be my temporary first mate.” He watched her lips part slightly and her eyes widen, as she silently gaped at him.

“We can barely get through a conversation without biting each other’s heads off, yet, you want me to  _ stand by your side  _ and be your first mate?” Kristina continued to stare. “You’ve obviously lost your mind.” Her eyes went to behind him. “All of you have obviously lost your minds! This better be a joke…!”

“I wish he was kidding,” Rigsby commented and the bitterness in the Crew Officer’s voice left Jane grimacing, “but he’s not. He honestly wants  _ you  _ as his First Mate…”

“Who asked you for your input, Rigsby?” Kristina retorted, silencing the Crew Officer’s petty jab immediately. “You’re one of the reasons I’m even being considered as Jane’s First Mate right now, and honestly? Who said I wanted the position?” She eyed Jane again. “I saw what Lisbon went through under your guidance. If you think, for one minute, that I’m anything like Teresa Lisbon—you are sadly mistaken,  _ sir _ . I refuse to let you treat me, anything like you treated her.” Jane nearly rolled his eyes. The supposed concern for Lisbon’s past well-being amused him beyond the pleasantries and he wondered if his fellow Crew Officers felt the same way. Judging from Rigsby’s continued silence and Kristina’s grimace, he could only surmise that Rigsby probably felt the same way he did. “And not that it’s important, Jane, but  _ why  _ me? You’ve got several crewmembers, which have been on this vessel  _ far  _ longer than I have been.”

Jane blinked. “We’re not a sexist ship, Kristina.”

“If you’re telling me this decision occurred, only because I’m a  _ female _ —I’m leaving this ship...”

From behind him, Rigsby snorted again. “If Jane wanted a cursed-free ship, he would have settled on a  _ male  _ as a First Mate.” Jane frowned. He was no idiot to the opinions of his crew, and various others, based on his bold choice to crew a female First Mate, but he was also not one to be swayed by the superstition. Although Lisbon had always voiced her opinion to Cho becoming her replacement one day, Jane had ultimately realized the power struggle he’d find himself in by promoting a  _ male  _ First Mate.

“Rigsby, enough,” Jane snapped, turning his head to glance at his disgruntled Crew Officer. “In case you’ve forgotten, we have a small window of opportunity here to rescue Lisbon. I’d rather not waste it by listening to your pointless squabbles.” Rigsby said nothing and Jane turned to stare at Kristina again. “We need a First Mate and regardless of what anyone will say here, I know you’ve followed Lisbon around in her duties. You’ll need a little formal training, but I’m not going to lose any sleep over promoting you to First Mate.” Her furrowed brow told him they’d probably have to discuss the crew’s possible reaction a little later on, without the presence of Cho and Rigsby, but he had no intention of lying to her. It’d be a little difficult at first, but after a few months, nobody would even bat an eyelash at her making the hard decisions.

“One problem though, Jane,” Kristina replied and Jane stared at her. “I haven’t exactly  _ accepted  _ your offer yet.”

“But you will.”

“I will; on  _ one  _ condition.” Jane nodded and waited for her condition. “If you treat me  _ once  _ like you treated Lisbon, I’m gone. You’ll need to not only find yourself a new First Mate, but you’ll probably also need to get yourself an eyepatch.” Jane chuckled and leaned across his desk to offer his new First Mate his hand, which she shook tentatively after a moment of spared glances.

“Congratulations, First Mate Kristina…”

“It’s Kris,” Kristina interrupted and Jane blinked, already surprised by his First Mate’s outburst. “You’ve been calling me Kristina for three goddamned years. It’s Kris and  _ just  _ Kris. Lisbon could say it correctly, why can’t you?”

“Alright, Kris,” Jane answered with a nod, before he turned to remove the tattered scroll from his upper left-hand desk drawer. Ignoring Kristina’s— _ Kris’s _ —curious glance, he spread the scroll across his tabletop and beckoned her closer with the wave of his hand.

“What are you doing?”

“Haven’t you ever seen a map before, Kris?” He questioned, still studying the map of the seas—something, he had “borrowed” from his father as a child and had never  _ quite  _ given back.

“I know what a map is, you bumbling idiot,” Kris replied, while she positioned herself directly above the scribbled diagram. With a tilted head, she glanced at him. “I just want to know why you have something as old as Neptune himself upon your desk.” Jane trailed his fingers across the map, reexamining his and Lisbon’s past scribbles on the parchment with mixed feelings. How often had he and Lisbon stared at the same map, attempting to figure out Red John’s next move over the past nine years?

“It’s simple, really,” Jane answered. “We’re going to find Lisbon by finding Captain Red John.” He heard Rigsby groan and Cho shift from behind him, while Kris said nothing. He had half-expected an outburst from the brunette, but her silence made him wonder exactly what the crew had told her in regards to his past. “Kris?” He finally addressed her, after a few moments of silence.

“Yes?”

“How much do you actually know about Red John?” Jane inquired.

He watched her shrug. “Enough to know he’s a real nasty piece of work, and probably one of the reasons Lisbon is currently missing.” Jane had almost expected her to ask  _ is there any reason why we’re going after Red John—again _ but her immediate understanding of the decision told him he had made the correct decision regarding her employment.

Jane glanced up at her. “You are correct and unfortunately, Craig O’Laughlin is the First Mate upon the Red Rum.”

“It wasn’t a rumor, sir?” Cho asked from behind and without glancing at the Crew Officer, Jane shook his head.

“It’s the one piece of information I wish that hadn’t been true, trust me,” Jane replied, continuing his visual mapping. He hesitated for a moment, but he also knew his crew officers needed to know something he hadn’t necessarily discussed with Lisbon. “It’s also the one piece of information I wish I had been able to share with Lisbon, before she had been kidnapped by him.”

“You didn’t tell her?” All Rigsby, Cho and Kris asked at once.

“You basically condemned her to Davy Jones’ Locker, Jane,” Rigsby replied. “Captain! Why wouldn’t you tell your  _ First Mate _ vital information?”

“Because,” Jane started, glancing downwards. “Lisbon had been planning to leave the Scarlet Oasis for the past six or so months.” He waited for the inevitable outburst of  _ you’re lying  _ or  _ why would Lisbon  _ want  _ to leave _ , but the silence told him none of his Crew Officers were that surprised at the thought that Lisbon had actually wanted to  _ leave  _ his service. “You don’t tell your outgoing First Mate sensitive information, especially information that would make her a prime target for Captain Red John’s wrath.”

“I doubt keeping her in the dark did wonders either, Jane,” Kris spoke and Jane shrugged. “How do you think she’ll feel when O’Laughlin reveals he’s Red John’s First Mate and you knew all along?” He waved her off. Lisbon would understand; she, after all, did possess the key trait of logic. “If she survives, she might skin you alive.”

“She’ll understand,” Jane replied, glancing at her. “Lisbon has always been gifted deniability; something, she ultimately claims she hates, but it’s kept her out of harm's way for years.”

“I don’t want deniability,” Kris told him. “I want you to be honest with me. If you know something, I expect you to tell me.” He nodded. He  _ supposed  _ he could try a new tactic, especially if it brought them one-step closer to destroying Red John and reuniting them all with Teresa Lisbon again.

“But first, we need somewhere to start.”

Kris nodded. “We do and…” She paused and he glanced up, only to find his First Mate biting her bottom lip in almost hesitation. “I might have an idea of where to start.”

“What’s your idea, Kris?” Jane asked, rethinking the scribbles upon his map. “I’m open to any suggestion at this point.”


	3. Chapter 3

“What could possibly be so important on this island?” Rigsby questioned his good friend, and sailing master, Cho as they neared dock on Jubilee Island.

“Once again, I don’t know,” Cho sighed. “You would need to ask the First Mate about that.” Rigsby shook his head in response and looked out towards the nearing port. He had never been too fond of Jubilee Island or its inhabitants. Primarily, because each resident the crew encountered on previous visits were incoherent due to the amount of alcohol each of them consumed by the gallon.

The Captain enjoyed his infrequent trips to the island, mainly for the cheap drink and the nostalgia that it brought him. While Rigsby never listened to the Captain’s endless stories, he remembered the mention of Jubilee several times over the years. However, what baffled him was the Captain’s willingness to explore the island on Kris’s say so. Rigsby could say, with almost certainty, that they would discover nothing that concerned the ex-First Mate, as he was sure that Red John did not even stoop so low as to interact with these kinds of people.

The clouds above the island had parted and opened the sky to a blazing hot sun and the overwhelming stench of rum and tequila filled his nostrils. The intoxicating smell caused Rigsby to turn his head and gag, as he caught sight of Cho giving a sideways stare.

“The smell is rancid,” Rigsby responded to Cho’s cold stare and Cho only turned his attention back towards the docking of the Scarlet Oasis. Once the smell had wavered in his nostrils, he looked down on deck and saw Kris barking out orders to the underlings of the crew. It had been six weeks since Kris had become First Mate and the experience had not been a pleasant one. The six weeks only proved to Rigsby that she was worthless as a First Mate and did not understand the basics of the job. She had tried to tell himself, and Cho, how to manage the ship. While Cho had been willing, Rigsby felt that Cho was succumbing to pressure and that he shouldn’t be so accepting of the hot tempered brunette’s promotion. To him, Kris ran the ship as if it was a small country – one where no one else on the crew had a say about the ship’s well being and the Captain was more than willing to let her do it.

He had said, “Kristina does well on deck. She does not let them push her around, unlike our previous First Mate.” The Captain had grinned at him and continued on with, “Be happy, Wayne, the ship has never run better.” Rigsby could not be happy with the Captain’s choice and it reflected in his attitude and work. Rigsby had already been punished with night guard at least once a week for his refusal to follow her orders. However, to him, she had not proven herself useful to the cause. She was no help when it came to their weekly meetings with the Captain either. Kris barely spoke ten words, and when she did speak it was to scold the Captain for, what she considered, to be “asinine” comments. Rigsby questioned why she stayed so quiet, when the Captain clearly had allowed for his officers to voice their opinions on ship matters. He rolled his eyes and thought that it was probably due to Kris’s continued false belief that the ex-First Mate was continuously beaten for her remarks.

_ Like she knows anything about being beaten _ , Rigsby mused to himself. His train of thought was interrupted as the Captain stepped upon the helm.

“Captain,” Cho greeted unemotionally. “What can we do for you?” Rigsby only saw the Captain smile and make eye contact with him. The stare was unnerving, but nevertheless, he waited for the Captain to give his direction.

“Cho, I am so pleased that you asked because I have the perfect job for our newly rebellious crew officer,” the Captain remarked and he seemed almost delighted at the thought of another insufferable job. The Captain looked about the deck and it’s helm for a moment, seeming to forget that he was already mid conversation with his officers, then motioned back towards Rigsby.

The Captain called his attention, “Rigsby, I need you to go with Kristina about the island. Cho and I have business elsewhere and can not help.” Rigsby wanted to protest the Captain’s orders, but he only saw the Captain’s hand in front of his face, which said that it was best to keep his mouth shut.

::::

Rigsby followed Kris into a back alleyway; it was piled high with trash and empty bottles. Some of the bottles were broken into glass shards, probably due to the high volumes of violence that plagued the island. The smell of alcohol, once again, filled his nose and he wanted to gag, but instead he looked up and saw Kris about to head into a back doorway.

“Kris,” he halted her, “where are we going?” He questioned her judgment about this, as she seemed to have been taking him some place wretched upon the island. He almost wanted to stop and wait outside for her. As he thought that if Kris had been killed inside, he could say that it was her own fault for being so foolish as to step into a dark alleyway on this island. He was about to open his mouth again, when Kris turned her head slightly towards him and rolled her eyes.

With a callous and sarcastic tone, she quipped, “I am taking you to be hogtied and castrated, Rigsby.” He saw her snort behind the back of her hand and watched as she stepped inside the back alley building. He followed her only due to the fact that if he didn’t, she would probably tell the Captain that he had been insubordinate while under her command.

He stepped through the doorway, only to find himself in a deserted bar and could only scoff at his own foolishness.  _ Of course _ , he thought,  _ she wants to get drunk. Especially since that’s the only thing she has any skill with; other than a man’s dick that is.  _ He chuckled to himself, until his ears registered her yelling out into the empty bar.

He heard her screech, “Frank! You son of a bitch, get out here!” He thought nothing would come of the demand, until he saw what he assumed was the bar owner. He was well into his late forties and his teeth had blackened to the point where it was hard to tell if they were teeth or bits of charred meat. The man slowly walked towards the counter of the bar and rested his upper body upon it with his arms carrying all of his weight.

Finally, the man responded, “We’re closed, don’t you fuckers know this?” The man’s voice was gritty and it was no wonder considering the man had a cigar, longer than Rigsby’s middle finger, in his mouth. The man, Kris called Frank, did not seem to look at either of them until Kris decided to bang her fists on the table in order to gain the man’s attention.

“Frank,” Kris shouted, “it’s me – Kris! You idiot! You claim to have a steel trap memory.” The man gave no reaction, but instead turned his head to Kris to give her an almost toothless grin.

“Kris,” the man began, “do my eyes deceive me? What ya doin’ on this godforsaken piss place?” Rigsby noticed the slight lack of vocabulary and the consistent slurring in his voice. This man either walked around inebriated, day in and day out, or that was just how he spoke; Rigsby was not too sure which one it was. 

“Sadly,” Kris responded with a sigh, “I am not here on a vacation, as much as I wish it were.” Rigsby could only roll his eyes; he doubted that she had any idea what actual work was, but nevertheless, he kept an open ear and listened to Kris continue on. “I have come on business that concerns the Scarlet Oasis.”

Frank’s eyes widened at the mention of the ship. 

“The Scarlet Oasis, you say?” Kris only nodded in response, before he spoke again, “How’d ya manage to get a gig on that rotten thing?”

Rigsby attempted a correction of the man’s assumption about the Scarlet Oasis, before Kris shot him a glare. The ship was nothing near perfect, but it was better than any other available positions in these parts. All of the other pirate ships that roamed these waters were not too keen on being friendly to their crews. Rumors, aside from Red John’s known reputation, spoke of ships that were dirty, disorganized, and had deep pockets inside certain governments. The scandals alone made Rigsby happy that he had chosen to join Jane instead, despite Jane’s own less than spectacular reputation. Putting aside the obvious issues aboard the Scarlet Oasis, he felt there was no justification to calling the ship rotten.

Kris’s voice caught his ears, “Oh, you know Frank, a little persuasion goes a long way.”

Frank coughed and made an attempt at a smile, “They gots good taste - picking you. Stupid blighters, if they don’t.”

Rigsby sat on the barstool next to Kris, drumming his fingers against the counter, trying to signal that Kris should hurry this conversation along. The Captain would become impatient and the last thing Rigsby wanted to hear was Jane complaining about how they had taken too long in their ventures. 

Rigsby cleared his throat and, bluntly, asked, “Look, is there anything you can give us about the Red Rum?” He glanced at Kris, quickly, and she looked about ready to take her knife to his jewels, but he didn’t care. They were short on time and he wanted to find Lisbon before anything worse came to her. 

Frank spat and Rigsby swore that his gaze was daring him to take on the guy in the back alley, but he wouldn’t even entertain the notion - he just wanted answers. 

“Red Rum? Yeah, they come ‘round some,” Frank spat again. “They come, they pay, they drink my mead and get the hell on outta here. Pigs, they are.” Rigsby only nodded in response, hoping that the guy would give him more than just a sound opinion on the demeanor of the Red Rum’s crew. 

“What else, Frank?” Kris interjected - as politely as possible; Rigsby assumed that it was so that they would not offend, apparently, Frank’s delicate feelings. Rigsby, then, watched Frank’s attention turn to Kris and he spoke again. 

“Two fellas come in, month ago, talkin’ up about some lady friend of theirs. Thought they talkin’ foul o’her.” Frank puffed on his cigar and took a long inhale before he continued on with his story. “Almost kicked ‘em outta the place. None o’ that talk here. None.” Rigsby watched as Frank shook his head in disapproval at the past patron’s behavior. He suspected that many men came into the establishment and spoke that way, but this time, it had only traveled to Frank’s ear. 

“Got any names for these guys?” Rigsby quipped, continuously drumming his fingers against the counter. He swore he could feel Kris’s eyes blaze into his neck, but he paid her no mind. She could chew him out later for his “rudeness” towards her former friend. 

Frank, with no readable emotion, answered him, “Craig ‘nd some Carter fella. Had himself a limp that Carter did. Only spoke of a lady. Nothin’ more.” 

The name Carter rang a bell to Rigsby, but he was not sure if the man he thought of was the same one that had splashed the headlines years back. The Carter he knew of was, officially, Timothy Carter, a well-seasoned attorney, who had been picked from a slew of suitors to marry Father David Saffron’s daughter. The only reason Timothy Carter even made the headlines had been because the maid had found Carter bleeding on his kitchen floor from a severe leg wound that his betrothed had graciously given to him as a wedding present. Before she had taken off, that is. Her name was, suspiciously, kept out of the headlines most likely due to the damage it would cause to the Saffron family name. He never thought much of the story up until this point and thought it just another gossip column to fill a page. Thinking on it now, he saw the connection between Frank’s revelation and the story from the papers. Clearly, they were the same man, but if he was so well-off as an attorney, why join the Red Rum? It made no sense; had Carter been shunned from the society that made him so prominent? Had the injury made him unable to do his job? He wasn’t too sure; in his line of thought, he looked over at Kris to see her reaction to the bit of news. Her face was stoic and showed no emotion, but years with Jane had taught him to look at more than just the face; he glanced at her hands. One was firmly around her glass of rum, while the other hovered around the hilt of her sword. Rigsby knew she wasn’t about to kill Frank, or him, so he could not understand her reaction of defense. 

Rigsby turned his attention to Frank, who took another long drag of his cigar and waited a few moments before speaking again.

“I don’t get me-self caught up in the business,” he scoffed. “They drink, they pay, they leave. My philosophy.” Once he had finished, Kris, abruptly, got up from the bar stool and stood erect, making eye contact with him. 

“Rigsby,” she commanded, “go on outside.” Rigsby gave her a suspicious look and, silently, refused to move from his seat until he found out what the hell Kris was up to. Kris sighed and shot back, “I have to pay the guy. You want to stay and watch me?” The newly minted First Mate rolled her eyes and leaned on the counter with her elbow - hand to her cheek. “I will be out in five minutes,” Kris added. Rigsby was not completely satisfied with the response she had given, but he was not about to fight over something so petty. He pulled himself up from the bar stool and nodded towards Frank. 

“Thank you, Frank. You’ve been helpful,” he mused and faked a smile at the drunkard. Frank gave nothing back except a half-grunt, half-cough. Rigsby paid him no mind as he, slowly, dragged his feet out of the broken down, old bar and waited for Kris in the alleyway. 

While waiting, he took a moment to take in the surroundings of Jubilee Island. There was nothing of note to focus on. He only noticed the several, he assumed homeless, drunks and addicts that lined the streets; most were passed out from the intoxication and others were graveling for some spare change. Rigsby never focused on one of them for too long - he did not want to cause any trouble for himself or the rest of the crew. He focused his attention back towards the entranceway of the bar and continued to wait. It was not long before Kris emerged from the bar to come nose-to-nose with Rigsby. She gave him a brief shrug and began to walk out of the alley; she waved him on to follow her and he did just that. 

They walked in silence for a few paces, until he finally got up the nerve to ask her, “Did Frank say something to make you uncomfortable?” 

Kris, clearly, who had been lost in her own thoughts, turned her head to him and, silently, asked him to repeat what he had just said. Clearly, she hadn’t been paying attention to him, and he repeated the question - more firmly. 

“No, not at all,” she lied to him, “why?” 

“Kris,” he reprimanded, “you normally do not put a hand to your sword when you are talking to what you considered to be, an old friend.” Rigsby stuffed his hands into the pockets of his trousers and gave her a firm glare. “Unless, that is how you react to every name that comes your way.” 

He heard Kris take in a deep breath through the nose and, then, huff. “Do we really need to talk about this  _ now _ , Rigsby?” 

“Yes,” he demanded, “because my First Mate, and  _ friend, _ is missing and you have done nothing but complain the entire time.” Rigsby could feel his cheeks burning with the rage he had been sitting with for the past six weeks. He needed to let her know that he wasn’t about to take her bullshit anymore. He and the crew had bigger problems, in his opinion, to deal with; her emotions about what came up during the search were irrelevant. “You act as though you do not even  _ care _ if we find her or not. You never make a sound in our Officer Meetings and you seem more than satisfied to throw in the towel and we have barely begun.” He snorted in her general direction and continued on, “So yes, I would like to know what made you uncomfortable. If you are going to aid in leading this crew, then you need to be open with your Crew Officers.” He looked at Kris briefly and watched his words sink into her face as her expression was growing redder by the minute. Eventually, once he noticed she had gone about thirteen shades of red, she paused in her step and walked in front of him - halting his passage back to the ship. He knew he was about to get an earful of whatever bullshit she was going to spew at him.

“Rigsby,” her tone surprisingly calm and even, “for the sake of our working together, I will tell you.” He watched her kick a rock in front of her and heard her speak once more. “What made me uncomfortable, if you must know, was the mention of the man named Carter.” 

“Why?”

“Because,” she explained, “he was once a man I was being forced to marry under the order of my father - David Saffron.” Rigsby took a step back - stunned, as he strung the stories about Timothy Carter together with Kris’s explanation. He had no idea that Kris had been the daughter of Father David and Jenna Saffron; he had only known that Kris had come from an elite background and resented it. Rigsby got a sense of the story that formed on Kris’s lips, but it was one he already knew, but he asked anyway, “Did you really leave him bleeding on his kitchen floor?” 

Kris nodded in response to his question and spoke again, “He was attempting to rape me. I defended myself. I stabbed him in the leg, hence the limp, and ran.” He watched her breathe a sigh of relief and then regain her posture - her head held high and unashamed of her actions. 

“Did you know about his allegiance to Red John?”

“Everyone did,” she snapped. “It wasn’t exactly a well kept secret. I think part of his appeal, to my father, was that allegiance to Red John.” Kris seemed untethered in her explanation of what had gone down between her and Timothy Carter. He quickly realized that this was the first time Kris had ever shared this story, out loud, to anyone. He questioned if she had told Lisbon when she had first arrived aboard the ship, but he guessed that the answer was no. Kris was notorious for being a private person; not wanting to share any of her backstory with the crew. Much of the crew had come to distrust Kris because of her first encounters with Jane and Lisbon. The story went, according to both Jane and Lisbon, that Kris had refused to give up her last name, which had made Jane, immediately, suspicious of the new crewmember. Rigsby remembered the screaming matches Jane and Lisbon had at Kris’s expense. A month after her arrival, Lisbon had informed himself and Cho that Kris had given up her last name to both her and Jane. Lisbon, despite Rigsby’s constant begging, never gave up that name to any of the other crew members - with good reason now that Rigsby thought about it. 

He almost wanted to apologize to the, now, First Mate for his harsh words, but decided against it. The information Kris was, unwillingly, giving to him was not enough to make him trust her. However, Rigsby now saw the value of having Kris aboard the ship. She was a fighter and they needed someone like that; as much as he had loved and respected Lisbon - she was never willing to call the Captain out on his shit. Kris would. 

“Kris,” he responded calmly, “if what you are telling me is true…”

“It is,” she interrupted. She moved to his right side to continue walking down the path that would lead them back to the ship. 

“Then,” he continued, “you know we may end up having to visit your father.” 

“I’m very well aware, Rigsby,” she retorted, “that I’m more than likely going to have to face the demons I ran away from.” He heard her sigh and briefly caught her running her hands, anxiously, through her hair. “I’m prepared to deal with that when it arises, but for now, I am going to assume that we will not have to deal with him...yet.”

He nodded in response as they stepped upon the lower deck of the ship. From there, he noticed that Jane and Cho had already returned and looked anxious to see what news they had brought back. He hoped that Jane was prepared to be disappointed because Kris was not about to repeat that story again. 

::::

“Where are we going, Captain?” Cho questioned, the moment after Kris and Rigsby’s figures disappeared past the fading horizon. Jane said nothing, before he cleared his throat and offered his Sailing Master a salacious grin.

“Considering the tempers, we might soon be short one crew officer.” Although Lisbon probably would have skinned him alive for forcing Rigsby and Kris together, he considered his decision rather ingenious. Considering he needed his crew (and his crew officers) to get along without killing each other, Jane didn’t feel  _ too  _ bad about putting two individuals with temper and trust issues out onto the island together. “We, my friend,” he added, finally focusing on Cho’s question, “are going to grace the Governor of this  _ fine  _ island with our presence.”

Jane eyed Cho’s slow blink. “Does he support us?”

“Does it matter?” Jane snapped, while Cho fell back into silence. “We are not favored on most islands, Cho; but Governor Wainwright  _ will  _ want to meet with us.” Jane paused to flash his teeth at Cho. “After all, I have something he’s desperately been seeking for some time now.” Cho kept quiet. “No more questions, Cho? I have never pegged you as a coward…”

Cho eyed him. “With all due respect, Captain, you haven’t been pleased with Rigsby or me for weeks…”

“And I wonder  _ why _ that is,” Jane interrupted. “After all, it’s not like my First Mate is missing due to the general incompetence of my crew officers or anything similar.” Cho crossed his arms against his chest. “And  _ yes _ , I already know what you’ll probably say and truthfully, I don’t care. Lisbon wanting to leave, prior to her unfortunate abduction, does not make this any less of your  _ or _ ...”

“I was going to say,” Cho replied, forcing Jane’s mouth to part slightly in surprise. “I’m not a coward, sir. You are my Captain and as your crew officer, I know my place upon your vessel.”

“Good man,” Jane complimented him, before he jerked his hand for Cho to follow him from the Scarlet Oasis. He heard Cho’s heavy footsteps behind him, as they set off onto the island, leaving Mashburn and Ron in charge of the vessel. “I hope he doesn’t burn her down.”

“The Scarlet Oasis will remain afloat, sir,” Jane said nothing to Cho’s reassurance. “Mashburn values the safe return of his First Mate. He won’t do anything that might compromise her safety.”

“It is easy to forget Mashburn’s infatuation with First Mate Lisbon sometimes,” Jane commented idly, adjusting his scabbard, as the two kept forward on the narrow island pathway. Jubilee Island, while relatively harmless, was still not a place Jane desired to become lost on. The lingering stench of alcohol and the pungent aroma of body vile left little to admire on the island, even as the two passed several clear-blue waterfalls and towering forests on the way to Wainwright Manor.

Stepping over yet another slumped island inhabitant, Jane gritted his teeth and kept his back to Cho. He could spend his entire life blaming Rigsby and Cho for Lisbon’s disappearance and their presence on Jubilee Island, but in reality, he knew this was all Lisbon’s fault; the fact they  _ all  _ had to suffer for her  _ one mistake  _ of trusting Craig O’Laughlin all of those years ago made him want to punish her. If the foolish woman had just followed his damned orders, she probably wouldn’t be wasting away in Red John’s brig for whores. In fact, they would have  _ all  _ been left unharmed aboard the ship; Lisbon’s supposed home for the past nine years.

Jane scoffed to himself and tucked his hands into his pockets. If Lisbon had cared at all about any of them she wouldn’t have wanted to leave. The fact that the crew  _ still  _ praised her as some type of goddess made him sick with rage. Lisbon had nearly tried to  _ abandon  _ them all with accusations of cruelty on her tongue and yet,  _ she  _ was the unspoken hero of the Scarlet Oasis? The hero wasn’t the Captain, who promised she’d be brought back home? Or the Captain, who gave the ungrateful wench passage onto his ship all of those years ago?

Instead, the hero was the  _ ex-first mate _ , who constantly accused him of  _ raping  _ her? Of mistreating her? Of putting his needs before hers? It was ridiculous. Lisbon had no idea what cruelty was, especially when he had been so kind to allow O’Laughlin  _ and  _ Kristina onto his ship at her urging. She would have been absolutely nothing without him and her way of paying him back had been for her to  _ bleed  _ all over his deck? Jane continued to grit his teeth. Luckily for Lisbon, there was no punishment worse than  _ being  _ Red John’s prisoner. Lisbon, Jane knew, would learn her place fast as Red John was not as patient or understanding as he is.

Silence hung between himself and Cho, until the both of them stood before the rusted and decrepit gates of Wainwright Manor.

“They aren’t locked,” Jane said, matter-of-factly, at Cho’s stare toward the gate as he shoved the iron open with a nudge of his foot. The two continued past the lackluster security and right up to the Governor’s front door. “I’d be surprised if anyone on this island had decent security.”

“Nobody has attempted to assassinate him?”

Jane paused to stare at Cho again, as the both of them stood on Governor Wainwright’s front porch. “Why waste your time or energy on killing an already condemned man?” Jane didn’t give Cho the chance to respond, before he tapped his knuckles against Wainwright’s door. When the door opened, minutes later, a busty blonde-haired woman in a tight baby blue dress stood before them.

“The Governor’s Residence,” the blonde-haired female hiccupped, as Jane flashed his teeth at her.

“Hello, I’d like to speak with Governor Wainwright.” The blonde-haired female blinked slowly and swayed on her feet, forcing Jane to grimace. “You know, your baby-faced, bottle-kissing, ass-licking Governor. You can also tell him that Patrick Jane, Captain of the Scarlet Oasis, is requesting his charming presence.” The help’s eyes widened comically, before she slammed the door in his and Cho’s faces.

“Not a fan of yours, Captain?” Cho questioned dryly.

Jane side-eyed him. “As I said before, it doesn’t matter.” Yet, it almost  _ did _ . His last interaction with Luther Wainwright had been nearly six years ago, while the man (once a quick-witted individual) had been attempting to become Governor of Shell Island; he had decided to ravage the island, after Wainwright had decided to introduce a provision involving the registration and shaming of all pirate ships and their crewmembers on private islands. Lisbon had tried to reason with the idiot to no avail and in turn, they had found themselves in a two-year long war with the island; before the new regime took hold.

Jane shook his head, before the Wainwright Manor door opened again. He half-expected the female help to be answering the door, but instead, he was met with the dark curly-haired and dirt-encrusted Governor who held a bottle of alcohol in one hand and a pistol in the other. “Hello, Captain Jane.”

Jane grinned. “Why hello, Luther. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“You sick son-of-a-bitch,” Wainwright said, spitting, as he aimed the pistol in-between Jane’s eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“Relax,” Jane replied, throwing out his hands toward Wainwright. “We’re certainly not looking to ravage this island as after all, what would we take?” Jane paused to glance at Wainwright’s alcohol bottle. “Your prized half-empty bottle of honey mead? Your prostitutes?” He chuckled at his own joke. 

He turned his head towards Cho and asked, “You think he’d be a little more welcoming, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, Captain.”

Wainwright narrowed his eyes at Cho. “Feel you needed to bring a glorified bodyguard to come and visit me? How very noble of you, Captain Jane.”

“To be fair,” Jane started, lifting his arms toward Wainwright. “You  _ do  _ have a pistol aimed between my eyes and I have nothing to harm you with.” Wainwright eyed him for a moment, before the dark-haired Governor backhanded him with the pistol.

“You look better already.” Jane gritted his teeth at Wainwright’s remark, his jaw throbbing.

“You’d look better too if you’d stop with the booze, Governor,” Jane replied, before he added thoughtfully, “You’d also smell better if you at least bathed once a week.”

Wainwright kept grimacing. “You can go to Hell, Captain.”

Jane laughed at him. “Oh why Governor, I never realized how much you cared.”

“Don’t mistake my utter dis-contempt for caring,  _ Captain _ ,” Wainwright chided, his upper lip curling. “After all, it is  _ you  _ who is coming to me for information. Not the other way around and it would do you well to remember that.” 

Jane said nothing, as Wainwright turned away from them both. Jane fingered the scabbard of his sword. The residents of Jubilee Island probably would not miss the drunkard of a governor, and truthfully, Jane had no qualms about slicing the governor in half. Cho’s presence, however, stopped him from doing exactly that.

Jane rolled his eyes, before pulling a rawhide bag from his pocket. “I am prepared to offer you a worthwhile coffer for your troubles, Governor Wainwright.” Wainwright turned around to glance at Jane, his expression of no-concern. “Nearly a fortnight ago, First Mate Lisbon was abducted by Craig…”

Wainwright snorted, instantly interrupting him. “ _ You  _ are actually offering a reward for the whereabouts of your First Mate? Shocking.” Jane grit his teeth as Cho stepped in-between them. “It should astound you as well, Mr. Cho,” Wainwright added, glancing at the stoic navigator. “Your  _ Captain _ , as the story goes, attempted to have your First Mate excommunicated several times. The only reason that Craig O’Laughlin would have First Mate Lisbon is because of his association with Captain Red John.” Jane didn’t even bat an eye at Wainwright’s reveal. “And if your First Mate is still with O’Laughlin; you had best pray to the Gods you believe in that she’s dead.” Wainwright glanced back at Cho, rather indifferently. “I may not have liked the bitch, but I would never wish  _ that  _ fate upon her—or anyone else, for that matter. May God have mercy on her soul.” Jane eyed Wainwright’s slight dip of the head, almost as if he  _ were  _ praying to some imaginary deity to bring Lisbon back safely.

“I dare say it,  _ Governor _ , but you’re just filled to the brim with the innards of Davy Jones,” Jane spat, forcing Wainwright to narrow his eyes. “Your supposed sympathy is not about to free my First Mate from her fate upon the Red Rum. In fact, your  _ supposed sympathy  _ makes me think you know exactly what will happen to her aboard the Red Rum.” Jane watched Wainwright’s expression transform into muted fury, much to his amusement. “You see, no self-righteous individual would need to  _ fake  _ sadness at the idea of the torture that will more-than-likely befall Teresa.” He briefly met Cho’s glance.

Wainwright pushed Cho out of the way, only to press his finger against Jane’s chest. “You have  _ no  _ idea what you’re getting yourself into,  _ Captain  _ Jane. If you thought Rebecca Anderson’s betrayal was unjustified, just  _ wait  _ for whatever transformation Captain Red John has planned for Teresa.” Wainwright paused, smirking, before he continued. “After all, Teresa Lisbon was always the Captain’s favorite play…” Jane immediately silenced Wainwright, by grabbing the collar of his shirt roughly. Regardless of his personal feelings toward Lisbon, he had never wanted her involved in his quest for the vengeance of his wife and daughter. Wainwright’s implication that he’d  _ ever  _ want Lisbon in Red John’s grasp, struck a chord deep down inside of him. He’d sell his soul for Red John, but he’d  _ never  _ sell another’s just for one moment of satisfaction. “What? Did I say something that’s made you a little  _ hot  _ under the collar,  _ Captain _ ? Did my comment about your  _ whore  _ of a First Mate hit you a little…?”

“You will show some respect for First Mate Lisbon,” Jane told him, shaking him firmly. Wainwright chuckled. “She’s a better person than you’ll  _ ever  _ be, I’m afraid.”

“Why, Captain?” Wainwright asked, earnestly. “After all, rumor has it—you never did think much of her. In fact, you just shoved your fingers into her and…” Jane didn’t even give Cho the chance to come between them, as he slammed a fist into Wainwright’s face—knocking the Governor off his feet.

Without looking at Cho, or back at Wainwright, Jane turned on his heels. “Come, Cho. I believe we have gotten all the information we are going to get for today.”

::::

To Cho’s credit, the Sailing Master waited until the magnificent Scarlet Oasis was in sight to begin a conversation. If Jane had been a betting man, he would have expected Cho’s questioning about a quarter mile from the Wainwright Manor.

“If he wanted to,” Cho started, forcing Jane to glance backwards. “Governor Wainwright could very well have you arrested.” Jane merely offered a smile at his employee.

“And admit he has knowledge on the whereabouts of Captain Red John?” Jane asked, crossing his arms against his chest. “He won’t breathe a word of this meeting, as Red John will slaughter him for having double-crossed him and his cause.” Jane nearly hummed in satisfaction, palming his trouser pocket, as Cho eyed him.

“What did you take?” 

Jane smiled widely. “You caught onto that, did you?” When Cho said nothing, Jane removed the folded five inches of parchment and handed it to his Sailing Master in amusement. Cho unfolded the document. “If he didn’t want sensitive information to fall into the wrong hands, he might have considered leaving his private items behind.” Jane shrugged. “Simple mistake, really.”

Cho glanced upwards at Jane, after he had read the parchment. “If you step onto Governor Island, you will be arrested.” Jane waved him off. “You are a wanted man, Captain. Given the continued information that the Bertram line publicly supports Red John and his endeavors, Governor Bertram will have no hesitation in sentencing you to your death.” 

“Given Craig O’Laughlin’s botched assassination attempt on my life,” Jane started. “Red John has, more than likely, given the order that no one—but him—is to kill me.” At Cho’s lack of response, Jane removed the letter from Cho’s fingers. “Consider the amount of islands we’ve sailed to, over the past three years. How many times has one of the island-goers approached me? Us?  _ Zero times _ . Red John’s threat is extremely valid and the idea of crossing Red John is almost unbearable.” Cho continued his silence. “O’Laughlin, for example, knew  _ exactly  _ where we’d be. Instead of coming for me, again; he decided to settle the score, by abducting my valuable First Mate.” Jane shrugged his shoulders again. “An eye for an eye, as they say.”

“You  _ did _ strip him of his previous First Mate.” Dumar Hardy had been an idiot and everyone, including Red John, knew it. If Red John hadn’t wanted his First Mate to suffer at the hands of the Scarlet Oasis, Red John should have accepted the general terms of surrender. “Rigsby warned you of the consequences, Captain.”

“It doesn’t matter, Cho,” Jane quieted his Sailing Master, as the two started toward the ship again. “Lisbon’s loss of life is far more consequential than Hardy’s. Dare I remind you, Cho; without Lisbon, Kristina might continue as our First Mate.”

“I am not Rigsby, sir,” Cho quietly stated. “I do not hold grievances against Kris for her role, especially upon our vessel. We needed a First Mate, Captain. She is, for all intents and purposes, our First Mate in Lisbon’s continued absence.” Jane said nothing, while he mustered up a non-humorous smile for Cho. “I have never and will never question your intentions or decisions, Captain; however, this search for First Mate Lisbon will, more-than-likely, force your hand.”

Jane stared at Cho. “Let them question me. I have nothing to hide.”

“No,” Cho agreed. “But First Mate Lisbon apparently did, considering her decision to depart from the Scarlet Oasis.” Jane blanched. “Someone, Captain, is eventually going to catch onto the fact that Lisbon barely held court with you…” Jane ignored Cho by re-boarding the vessel.

His and Lisbon’s relationship had certainly been… _ complex _ ; and as much as it vexed him to admit, he knew Cho had a valid point. Cho was loyal to him, purely out of obligation, but Rigsby certainly wasn’t. What would keep Rigsby  _ or  _ Mashburn from asking him the questions, related to his relationship with Lisbon? Kris, of course, wouldn’t ask. She had never cared about Lisbon and Kris’s current position as his First Mate played in his favor. Kris would say  _ whatever the hell  _ his relationship with Lisbon had been, wasn’t pertinent to them finding her.

_ If  _ she even cared about finding Lisbon, at all.

Jane hummed contently, drawing Cho’s attention. “I suppose you  _ were  _ right, Cho. Mashburn  _ does  _ follow instructions.” He had a feeling his Sailing Master was rolling his eyes, but again, it was hard to tell. Cho didn’t do emotions. Jane glanced about the ship deck, nearly empty, aside from Ron and a few straggling crewmembers. “We must have made it back before them.”

“Is that hard to believe, sir?”

Jane turned to eye his crewmember. “Not at all really.” Mainly because he had no idea who Kris had approached on Jubilee Island. Or even, if her contact held any merit. “Hard to believe, Cho, but I am  _ not  _ all-seeing as I appear to be.” He thought he heard someone snort, but Cho’s expression remained collected. “I am just a humble pirate captain, who misses his First Mate.”

“Patrick?” Jane heard Mashburn’s tentative voice behind him, forcing him to turn to stare at his normally upbeat crew officer. Jane blinked at the diminished man, who had shifted from an outfit of all gaudy colors to simply black. “Anything about Teresa?” Jane kept from laughing at the ridiculousness of  _ any  _ possible relationship between Teresa Lisbon and Walter Mashburn, especially when  _ he  _ had owned Teresa Lisbon’s every action.

Jane schooled his expression, carefully. “How about we wait for Kris and Rigsby, Walter?” Mashburn nodded slowly, but Jane could still feel Cho’s stare. Turning slightly, he eyed his Sailing Master in contempt. “Did you have something to say,  _ Officer  _ Cho?” Jane watched Cho shake his head. “I didn’t think so.” He turned back to Mashburn with a frown. “Lisbon wouldn’t want to see you this way, Walter.”

“Teresa didn’t want to see me in  _ any  _ way, Captain,” Mashburn replied, crossing his arms against his chest. Jane said nothing in response. “She could only ever see  _ you _ .” Jane kept his expression neutral, but inside, he was still laughing. Walter Mashburn was a fool, and everyone knew it.

Jane opened his mouth, when he suddenly heard heavy footsteps upon the deck. Glancing over toward the commotion, he spotted Kris and Rigsby. He half-expected Mashburn to make a crude comment, but the man’s silence spoke to how Lisbon’s disappearance had affected him. So, Jane would make it for him. “Enjoy your romp in the hay?” Kris eyed him for a moment, before she flashed him her middle finger.

“I enjoyed drinking my weight in rum,” Kris responded, hiccupping. Jane’s lips upturned slightly. How did he manage to gain such a  _ worthless  _ crew? “Oh, would you relax? I'm completely sober,  _ and  _ I come bearing information.”

Mashburn straightened his posture, almost immediately. “Did you learn anything about Teresa, Kris?”

Jane didn’t let her answer. “Beyond helpful.”

He didn’t miss Kris’s shit-eating grin fading instantly. “If sources are correct, Carter  _ and  _ O’Laughlin were both on this island, about a month ago.” Jane frowned. He supposed he  _ should  _ have realized Carter had accompanied O’Laughlin onto the island, considering the  _ friendship  _ that the two held. “Unfortunately, a good two-thirds of the island’s residents are drunk--so this information could be incorrect and any future information is not going to come easy. Red John has the island residents’ semi-fearful.” From the corner of his eye, Jane detected a slight shift from Rigsby and not for the first time, he wondered exactly what had happened between his temporary first mate and crew officer upon Jubilee Island. “So,  _ Captain Jane _ , what did you learn from your little venture onto the island of the Drunks and Those of Little Expectations?”

Jane handed his little procured treasure to Kris, who immediately narrowed her eyes at the content of the letter. “And before you say anything about illegal gains and morality, I  _ am  _ a pirate. This letter was just asking to be pilfered from the pocket of Governor Wainwright.” Jane flashed his teeth toward his temporary first mate, who seemed less-than-impressed with his methods of extracting information. “Although I doubt we’re going to find Lisbon on Governors Island; I have a feeling that Governor Bertram could assist us in our quest.” 

“I think you’d have far better luck beating yourself with your own arm than getting information out of him,” Kris commented dryly, as she crossed her arms against her chest. “I’ve practically known Governor Bertram my entire life, Jane. He’s not an individual you appeal to for information. Hell, Jane. I wouldn’t even go to him if someone set me on fire and he could  _ save  _ me.” 

“To be fair though,” Jane replied, still smiling. “You wouldn’t go to me if you were on fire either.” 

Kris opened her mouth, when Mashburn cleared his throat. In irritation, Jane glanced toward the brunette. “Captain, Kristina.  _ Please _ . Teresa needs to be found, safe and sound; and if a journey to Governor’s Island yields us information…” 

“Mashburn,” Kris interrupted softly. “You may not like…”

Almost immediately, Mashburn had his sword pressed against Kris’s throat. “I don’t care about  _ whatever  _ issue you had with Teresa, Kris. She’s my family and I refuse to just sit here and idly twiddle my thumbs, as you and _ Captain  _ Jane squander what precious little time we have to find her.” Jane half-expected Kris to knock Mashburn on his ass, but instead, Kris shoved his blade aside and removed her own. “And, lest you forget, Teresa  _ saved  _ you. She plucked you from this godforsaken island, all of those many years ago, and brought you onto  _ this  _ vessel without the approval from the Captain. Teresa  _ could  _ have left you to die, Kristina. She could have laughed in your face, much as you and Captain Jane are doing right now to her memory.” 

“I know you’re angry and upset,” Kris told him, grimacing, the metal of her blade hitting his. “But let  _ me  _ remind you that I have not forgotten Lisbon’s  _ one  _ moment of kindness to me. In fact, her one act of kindness is why I’m still here.” Kris knocked Mashburn’s sword out of his hand, the metal clattering onto the deck, before she pressed the tip of her sword into Mashburn’s throat. “If I didn’t care at all,  _ Walter _ , I wouldn’t have journeyed back  _ onto  _ this fucking hellhole in hopes of  _ finding  _ Teresa Lisbon. I would have left her to fucking  _ rot  _ on the Red...” 

“Enough!” Jane interrupted, whilst he motioned for Cho to yank Kris backwards from her argument with Mashburn. He’d been pretty amused, up until Mashburn’s idle reminder that he  _ hadn’t  _ been too happy with Kristina’s lingering presence upon his vessel. After O’Laughlin’s betrayal and Lisbon’s subsequent injury, Jane had been less than trusting of almost any new individual to his quest. “I have had  _ enough  _ with the idle questioning of motives amongst my crew officers! I understand tensions and tempers are running high and I  _ understand  _ everyone, myself included, is fearful for Lisbon’s current wellbeing. However,” he paused to glance between Mashburn and Kris. “We are  _ not  _ a divided front. We are one, united team and if  _ anyone  _ amongst us finds fault in that--I’m sure you can manage to find the plank.” 

Kris, still in Cho’s grasp, stared at Jane. 

  
“And now,” Jane continued, ignoring the apparent shock at his  _ defending  _ anything for Lisbon from the crew. “I have a letter that needs to be drafted. Please excuse me and Cho?” Jane didn’t glance backwards to see if the Sailing Master were listening, as he knew Cho was  _ always  _ at the ready. “Prepare the vessel to sail to Governor’s Island.” Without waiting for any word or further objection from his crew, Jane headed toward his quarters. 


	4. Chapter 4

_ How desperate you must be, Captain Jane, to seek my lone assistance in finding your First Mate. However, it is no surprise that the Good Captain and his First Mate found a mutual interest in Teresa. She, in my opinion, was always too good for you and your two-bit crew of miscreants. Nevertheless, Captain, I refuse to have my fair reputation as an individual of generosities sullied by slander. The Bertram line shall assist you in the safe return of Teresa, as she is a far safer and better option as your First Mate than the girl, who is currently masquerading in her position.  _

_ I look forward to seeing you. _

Tossing away the response from Governor Bertram, Jane cursed from behind his desk. He had known writing to Gale Bertram, especially with a plea for assistance, was going to be a risky endeavor. However, he also knew he had little choice. The journey onto Jubilee Island had gotten them nothing, aside from increasing tensions amongst the crew officers; and without a willing crew, he knew he’d be unable to rescue Lisbon and kill Captain Red John. 

Jane snapped his quill in half. 

Lisbon would not be the reason, again, he failed to kill the bastard, who had murdered his wife and child. He had already listened to the wench once about the  _ sanctity of life  _ and how killing Red John was not going to bring him (or his family) peace. Of course, what did Teresa Lisbon know? She’d been on his ship since nearly the beginning, after he had rescued the young woman from a brothel on Shell Island.  _ Sanctuary _ , she had begged him and Walter for. Dressed in the finest silks and draped to the nines in tender bruises, which had snaked across her pale skin and around her neck - Teresa Lisbon hadn’t been a sight. 

But he had taken a chance on her. He had ignored all of the  _ women on ships are bad luck  _ business in favor of clothing her and feeding her and training her, only for her to stupidly get herself abducted. 

And while Jane did not enjoy the idea of Lisbon suffering at the hand of Captain Red John, he  _ did  _ hope that she would eventually learn a lesson from her unfortunate experience. He had thought O’Laughlin shooting Lisbon and her almost dying would have ultimately deterred her desire to leave his side, but no. Lisbon’s refusal to listen to  _ his  _ rules had put her (and them) in danger.

“Captain.” Jane heard Cho’s voice through the door. 

Jane discarded the broken quill, before he stood from his desk. “Come in.” Cho did so and Jane smiled at his loyal crew officer. Unlike Lisbon, Rigsby  _ or  _ Kristina, Cho knew his place aboard the Scarlet Oasis. “What can I do for you, Cho?” 

Cho didn’t smile nor did he partake in useless small talk. “The crew is growing restless, sir. I’m afraid there’s about to be another uprising on your hands.” Jane grimaced. The last time his crew had attempted an uprising, they had ultimately been unsuccessful and he had been forced to kill at least three of them. Lisbon hadn’t been happy with him then either. 

“And of the officers?” 

“They aren’t happy, sir.” 

Jane met Cho’s gaze, but the Sailing Master didn’t look away. “You came in here to tell me something I already knew? What Captain Red John probably already knows from Lisbon?” Cho said nothing, as Jane approached him to grab tightly at the man’s lapel. “I did not save you from a mediocre life of belittlement and slave labor, only for you to parrot information. I would,  _ once again _ , like to remind you of your place on my vessel.” Jane pushed Cho backwards, forcing the younger man to bump against the wall. “You are dismissed.” 

Cho nodded. “Of course, Captain. I apologize for my shortcomings and will do better to assist you in the future.”

He left and Jane sighed. Why couldn’t anyone just follow his goddamned, simple directions? 

::::

Dragging his piece of bread through the slop on his plate, Rigsby hummed to himself. He’d managed to find himself in the ship’s mess hall, by himself, and without Jane’s overbearing presence -- which meant, he could eat  _ anything  _ he wanted. Although he hadn’t settled upon anything fancy, Rigsby closed his eyes and enjoyed the one moment of silence. 

“You look as if you’re about to make love to that loaf of bread,” Rigsby heard Cho’s voice from behind him. Rigsby opened his eyes and turned to glance at Cho, who didn’t look amused. Rigsby grimaced and tossed down his piece of soaked bread, appetite suddenly ruined. 

“What do you want, Cho?” Rigsby asked, before he added: “Or rather, what does the Captain require?” He knew he was  _ many  _ things to the crew--a glutton, a fool,  _ stubborn _ \--but he wasn’t an idiot. He’d known Cho for almost eight years and the Sailing Master did not just approach, because he wanted to have a casual conversation. Jane had sent him. “I already told Kris I’d be taking the night shift tonight. If Jane has a problem with that, he needs to get his story straight with his First Mate. I’m tired of mastering both day  _ and  _ night shifts; I’m only one…”

“Jane knows.”

Rigsby side-eyed Cho. “Jane knows…?” He continued to eye Cho, until it became clear that the Sailing Master was not about to be anymore forthcoming. “Come on, man. You’ve got to be a  _ little  _ more specific than just  _ Jane knows _ . Jane knows a lot.” 

“He knows Kris isn’t staying mum about how she feels about him,” Cho explained quietly, sitting down across from him. Rigsby turned to glance at him again. “If she doesn’t stop, he  _ will  _ hurt her.” 

Rigsby snorted. Kris could, in theory, take care of herself  _ far  _ better than most of the men on their crew could. She’d proven that when they had gone onto Jubilee Island. “He’d lose a finger before he could ever put it on her.” 

Cho shrugged. “This isn’t a joke.” 

“No,” Rigsby agreed, seriously. “It’s not.” He frowned and glanced downwards at his plate. Things hadn’t been this complex when Lisbon had been First Mate. Lisbon had known exactly how to navigate the waters that were Captain Patrick Jane, while Kris merely stirred them. “I don’t know what you want to say to her, Cho. It’s not like I have her ear on these matters.” Shoving his plate aside, Rigsby placed his elbows on the table.

“You remember the last uprising.” 

He nodded. How could he forget? Before he had been promoted to Master Gunner Rigsby, nearly seven years ago, he had been Cabin Boy Rigsby. When Jane had executed two of his crew members and a crew officer for the attempted takeover of the Scarlet Oasis, Rigsby had been deemed worthy of an officer’s title. The idea of power had been exhilarating, until he had realized  _ Crew Officer  _ was just a fancy term for “Jane’s Babysitter”. 

  
  


“You may not have sway, Rigs, but she’d listen to you.” Rigsby rolled his eyes.  _ Just  _ because they had come to “terms” on Jubilee Island didn’t mean everything was fine between them. “Jane’s not someone I’d anger right now.”

“Well considering you’re his good little lap dog, I would wager you’ve never wanted to anger him,” Rigsby shot off and Cho shifted, probably uncomfortable by his accusation. But Rigsby didn’t care. He’d long given up on Cho realizing that Jane was bad news. “I’m done talking about Jane, Cho. How long until we arrive on Governors Island?”

“A fortnight.” 

“Good.” Rigsby stood from his seat, removing his half-empty plate from the table. “I’ll see you atop the deck.” 

“Rigsby.” Cho’s hand forced Rigsby to stop. “Don’t be reckless. You know a rebellion would destroy us. We’d never find…” 

“I’ve got work to do,” Rigsby interrupted coolly.

He left without a second word.


	5. Chapter 5

“The last time I was here,” Jane told Kris, his pace even with hers. “I swear the Governor's Mansion was a tad taller.” He heard Kris’s snort. 

“You probably thought he was overcompensating for something back then too,” Kris commented and Jane said nothing. The last time he had ventured into the Governor’s Mansion, he’d been with Lisbon; and regardless of Governor Bertram’s misogynistic tendencies, Lisbon had held her own. His lips pulled into a tight smile. Kris, he had a feeling, would prove to be  _ just  _ as silver-tongued as her predecessor. “What’s the plan here, Jane?” Meters away from the entrance to the Governor’s Mansion, surrounded by towering bushes, Jane stopped to face Kris. 

“I hadn’t thought of one.” 

Kris’s eyes narrowed. “You’re telling me we’ve come  _ all  _ this way, only for you to bullshit your way into assistance from the Governor?” He watched as her lips thinned and he grimaced. “He’ll eat you alive.” 

“I sense the lack of  _ we  _ in there,” Jane pointed out to her idly and Kris folded her arms against her chest, reminding him of Lisbon. After a moment of her silent judgment, he sighed. “Of course I have a plan, Kris. Who in the hell do you think I am?” He watched her open her mouth and he narrowed his eyes. “Don’t. If you want to call me an  _ idiot  _ later, go ahead; however, this is not the place to be airing our dirty laundry.” Kris closed her mouth and he nodded. “As for the plan? We’re going to knock on the door and we’re going to request to speak to Gale. He’ll agree to speak with me, but he’ll refuse entry to you.” 

“Are you  _ fucking  _ insane?” Kris asked, spitting. Jane eyed her in surprise. When he had announced his decision to sail to Governor’s Island, Kris had vehemently denied  _ any  _ of them stepping foot onto the godforsaken island. “Teresa Lisbon  _ might  _ have been okay with his stupidity, but I most certainly am not! Governor Gale Bertram, Jane, isn’t someone to toy with.” Jane stared at her. He’d understood her reluctance in the beginning, because everyone  _ knew  _ the dangers in tethering themselves to Governor Bertram. However, the continued resistance concerned him. It was almost as if she had personally dealt with the Governor in the past, and well, she couldn’t have. “Sure, he agreed to help -- but at  _ what  _ cost? There’s always a price.” 

Jane pulled out a satchel of gold coins. “Don’t worry about it.” The satchel disappeared into the folds of his jacket, before he turned away from her. It was then, she stepped back into his line of sight. He tried to toss her a careless smile, but the darkened expression told him she just wasn’t having it. 

“Part of my job, unfortunately, is worrying about whether or not you will live to see tomorrow,” she told him, still frowning. Jane couldn’t contain his smile. Lisbon had said the same thing, once, eons ago too. “With Gale, Jane, there’s no guarantee.” He brushed her words aside with his hand, which she grabbed in turn. “Laugh all you want, but I’m not kidding this time. He has killed individuals for far less.” She paused to drop his hand. “Underestimating Gale Bertram is a fool’s choice. Take this seriously, especially if you want to find Lisbon.” 

Jane stared at her. “I’m nothing less than serious, Kris.” 

She rolled her eyes at him. “Bull, but whatever.” Before he could argue with her, Kris turned and started toward the entryway. 

He called after her, running. “And you called me insane!” He watched as she threw her fist against the white door, ignoring his plan altogether. “I’m going to get us killed? You might as well be offering our heads on silver platters now!” 

She gritted her teeth. “If I  _ wanted  _ to get you killed, Jane, this is not how I’d go about it.” He didn’t doubt it either. Jane had no chance to respond, before the mansion door opened to reveal a scantily clad maid. Kris’s attention went straight to the maid. “Did we interrupt the mid-morning romp?” Jane nearly choked on his laughter. It had never been a secret that Gale’s help, often helped him with more than just the  _ cleaning _ . 

The maid eyed her, paling. “What do you want?” 

“To talk to your owner…” Kris paused, smirking. “I mean, I am  _ so  _ sorry. I mean, your employer.” Jane couldn’t help his snort, as the maid let out a squeak. Sometimes, Kris was so damn amusing. “Tell  _ Governor  _ Bertram that Captain Jane is here to see him. Now.” Without pause, the maid was already gone and in her wake, she had left the door to the mansion wide open. “There ya go.” Without removing her hat, Kris stepped inside the mansion. Jane only stared at her. “What are  _ you  _ waiting for? Your balls to drop?” 

“You have absolutely no people skills, Kris,” Jane admonished her. “You could, at the very least, have given her a smile. Can you imagine the  _ hell  _ of fucking Gale Bertram?” 

Kris shrugged, as she led them both into the coldly decorated foyer. “I could, but the nightmares would last for years. I’ve also fucked a Bertram and let me tell you, it was subpar.” Jane nearly stopped. He didn’t know much about his current First Mate, but he  _ did  _ know there were only three living Bertrams. 

The most obvious was Governor Gale Bertram. However, Jane couldn’t imagine Kris allowing him to come within five feet of her. The second Bertram, Gale’s youngest daughter Grace, was a mystery. It was rumored, she was a recluse because her father refused to let her leave. The last Bertram, Gale’s oldest son James, had gotten himself into a bit of trouble for tarnishing the Bertram reputation. Five years ago, it had been rumored that Bertram Junior had dallied with the rebellious daughter of a religious figurehead, David Saffron. 

Suddenly, it clicked. Kris’s reluctance to give her last name, her general reluctance to approach  _ any  _ mainland church, and her odd habit of flinching around the mention of rosary beads. All of those quirks, quickly explained away by her flippant personality, pointed to the daughter of an overbearing religious father. 

“Wait,” Jane said slowly, as his eyes grew wide. “You’re Kristina Saffron?” Kris said nothing, shrugging. 

“Yeah,” Kris answered, unmoved. “I am. What of it?” 

He gaped at her for a moment. How had he not connected the dots? She’d been on his ship for years and not once, had he stopped to question her mysterious appearance? Jane wondered if Lisbon had known about Kris’s upbringing; but then again, he had a feeling that Kris would have  _ rather  _ stabbed herself before she discussed anything personal with the previous First Mate. “I had  _ no  _ idea I was carrying royalty on my beloved vessel.” He watched her roll her eyes, before he added. “Also, I must ask: did you  _ really  _ stab Timothy Carter in the leg?” 

“Yep.” He nearly sputtered. How had  _ Kris _ , a girl who weighed (maybe) 110 pounds when soaking wet, taken out a well-known Red John supporter? “Why does it matter, Jane? Carter was years ago.” He said nothing, as he turned to stare at the hanging portraits on the wall. “Alright then.  _ Don’t  _ answer me.” 

Jane side-eyed her. “Can’t I be curious?” 

“No, because it’s none of your business,” she curtly responded, tapping her foot on the ground impatiently. Jane offered her a small smile, before he refocused on the portraits. Most of the portraits had been commissioned within the last few years -- Gale with Governor Stiles of Cannibal Cove, Gale with Governor Wainwright, and a full-scale replica of the Red Rum. However, three of the paintings held age. The first portrait, on the left, was of the Bertram family (minus one). 

Gale sat on the left-hand side, his chin tilted slightly upwards, as his then-wife Kristina Frye wore an expression of deep forlorn. The eldest Bertram child, around nine at the time, sat in-between his parents with an expression of boredom. 

The second portrait, on the right hand side, was of the Saffron family. Unlike the politically-weathered Bertram’s, the Saffron’s  _ reeked  _ of false royalty. David, seated to the left of his wife, had seized his wife’s shoulder tightly, while (obviously) Kris’s mother had an extravagant piece of jewelry draped against her delicate collarbone. In-between the two, Kris sat. It was obvious (again) from the grimaced expression, Kris hadn’t wanted her portrait painted then. He assumed, by the powder pink straps framed against her pale freckled shoulders, Kris had to be about five-years old. 

“You look cute in a dress,” Jane told her, gesturing toward the Saffron family portrait. Kris glared at him. 

“It’s not cute. I  _ burned  _ that dress too.” Jane tried to hide his grin. There was just something about the idea of a five-year-old Kris, burning a powder pink dress that amused him. He turned away from her to study the portrait in-between the Saffron’s and the Bertram’s. It was of James Bertram, around seventeen-years-old; dressed in cobalt blues, James mirrored his father’s expression from the first portrait. 

It almost made him shudder. 

He’d met the Bertram lad once, and aside from his general need to shave and trim, Bertram Junior was his father’s son. Cold, calculated, detached, and a politician to boot. The only thing Jane hadn’t confirmed (or denied) was where the youngest Bertram’s loyalties lied. 

“You better get that goddamned smirk off your face, Jane,” Kris said, interrupting his thoughts. “I’m not afraid to run you through with my sword.” 

Jane rolled his eyes. “You wouldn’t dare kill me. I’m a delight.” 

“You wanna bet?” Kris asked, and he watched as her hand brushed against her scabbard. “You keep talking about my appearance and I’ll gut you.” 

Jane only smiled. 

::::

Kris was beyond frustrated. Not only was Jane’s inane questioning getting on her nerves, but his continued scoping of the Bertram-Saffron portraits had her on edge. There was a  _ reason  _ she hadn’t told him about her true identity, aside from the wariness which all Saffrons and Bertrams had learned to tread carefully. Before she had threatened to run him through with her sword, Jane had given special attention to the portrait of teenage James, hung between the portraits of the Bertram family and hers. 

On the wall, in the Saffron family home, there had been a spot for her own teenaged portrait; however, an hour before the sit-down, she had snuck out a window and hadn’t returned home for two days. David had been pissed, but that had been one of her best times. She had teased James, for weeks afterwards, about how his own portrait looked so angry and not sexy while hers just looked  _ empty _ . 

James had groaned, puckered his lips and scrunched his nose much to her delight. 

She averted her eyes quickly. 

Even after five years and some odd months, the memory of James still haunted her. 

“Ah, Good Morning, Captain Jane,” the voice of Gale Bertram interrupted her thoughts, which brought a smirk to her face. She had a feeling that Bertram was not about to acknowledge her presence, which brought her some relief. The Bertram line, after all, was nothing good. “You are here a day earlier than we originally anticipated. I hadn’t the time to prearrange the menu to your likings.”  _ Interesting _ , Kris thought. Something had Bertram spooked about Jane’s presence. Red John, perhaps? Although she doubted he was idiotic enough to house Captain Red John, especially with Jane having written him. 

Then again…

“The early bird often catches the worm, Governor Bertram,” Jane told him, smiling. Bertram didn’t look amused, unsurprisingly. “I hope our early arrival doesn’t throw off your entire afternoon, Gale.” 

The Governor falsely smiled. “No, not at all.” He turned slightly only to glance at her, his brows furrowing. His microexpression didn’t scream  _ anger _ or  _ surprise  _ at her presence, but something else she couldn’t quite read. Was he uncomfortable about having her in his home? Was there something he didn’t want her finding? Bertram’s slight jaw tick told her yes. Something was in the home, he didn’t want her stumbling upon. “Of course, the…” he glanced at her again, disgust in his expression. “... _ help  _ will need to stay outside. I simply cannot allow her to occupy our meeting space.” 

Kris rolled her eyes. “It’s nice to see you  _ again  _ too, Governor.” 

“I can assure you, Governor, she’ll be no problem,” Jane answered. Bertram glanced at her for another moment and Kris offered up her best angelic smile, which only forced the balding Governor to sneer. “Shall we adjourn to your office?” Bertram nodded, before Jane turned to her. “Try to not burn the place down. I don’t have enough gold coins to pay for a remodel  _ and  _ bail.” 

“I make no promises.” 

Bertram led Jane down the adjacent hallway and out of sight, before Kris took a step forward. “Idiots,” she muttered under her breath. Bertram knew better than to leave her to her own devices too; so she was almost disappointed in his aptitude. She figured she’d probably have about two hours to explore the Governor Mansion, and in those two hours, she knew she’d be able to find whatever the Governor was hiding. 

Turning slightly, Kris crept quietly down the opposite hallway. 

::::

Cursing under her breath, Kris kicked out at the banister on the top of the winding staircase. She’d been searching around the mansion for the past hour and yet, she’d found little to none to prove that Bertram had been hiding anything from them. She’d also forgotten just how  _ large  _ the Bertram home truly was. 

In her wandering, she had managed to stumble upon the dining room (still decorated by a blind man), the Master bedroom, and the library. Kris hadn’t found anything in the Master bedroom or the library to support her belief of a unwanted houseguest; but she had run across a maid in the hallway, muttering something about  _ ungrateful bastards _ \-- which she had assumed to be Gale Bertram or Patrick Jane -- until the maid had turned to find her, only to scream about her stealing the silver. 

Kris had rolled her eyes. Like she wanted anything from the Bertram household, aside from out of it. Her childhood home on Manse Island had been twice the size of Bertram Mansion, yet she (like James once) had hated it. How could anyone live in a house that size and be okay with it, while so many others were suffering? It was her same reason for disliking Captain Red John too. He had power and yet, he chose to use that power to kill and manipulate others? 

Staring down at the banister, unhappily, Kris swung one of her legs over the glossy wood surface. As a child, she had spent hours riding down the banisters while her father had screamed at her for the unladylike behavior. Now, as an adult and without her father, she felt it was appropriate to slide down the banister one last time - if only to cause issues for Bertram and his staff. 

She hollered as she slid down the banister, feeling the freedom of carelessness for the first time in years when suddenly, she was yanked from the banister. Kicking out at her unknown assailant, she managed to escape. 

“What in the  _ hell  _ is your…?” She turned, finding herself eye-to-chest with someone, who certainly wasn’t Gale Bertram. Her assailant was muscular, tall, and above all else -- covered in hair. Kris wrinkled her nose. Since when had Bertram allowed any of his help to have facial hair? Or,  _ a ponytail _ ? “I didn’t think the help was supposed to touch a guest of the house.” 

She watched him cross his arms against his chest. “Come again?” Kris blinked. Was it a  _ requirement  _ to hire dense help? “What are you doing here?” 

“How about you let go of me first?” Kris asked, trying to yank her wrist free of his vice. The help had the decency to look  _ almost  _ apologetic, which surprised her. “If you let go of me, I won’t tell your master…” She watched his dark eyebrows furrow as he dropped her wrist. “Thank you! I’m not afraid to remove your hand myself.” 

The man scoffed. “You’re just a girl…” 

Kris retrieved her sword, placing it at the base of his neck. “Try me. For a  _ girl _ , I hear I have pretty wicked accuracy.” She forced his head backwards, exposing the underside of his neck where a faint jagged scar remained. Kris eyed the scar, apprehension building in the pit of her stomach. Where had she seen that scar before? She watched him swallow, which brought her back to the matter at hand. “Now, I think you should run along, get on your knees, and go service your master before you get another nasty scar.” Still aiming her sword with one hand, she snapped to dismiss him with the other. “I’d hate to ruin such a pretty face too.” 

She watched him step backwards, extending the palms of his hands toward her. “Obviously, you’re upset I apprehended you and I  _ do  _ apologize; but you should be elated it was me and not my father.” 

Almost immediately, she froze as he continued to prattle on about the consequences. 

She realized suddenly  _ why  _ the scar had looked so familiar to her. 

It was because  _ she  _ had given it to him, five years ago, after he had broken her heart (and spirit). 

In her stupor at seeing James Bertram again, all Kris could manage was “well, shit.” 


	6. Chapter 6

“If the Captain sees us playing this,” Mashburn commented, pushing seven silver pieces toward Rigsby. “He’ll probably have our hides.” Jane’s decision to ban Piquet had probably been for the best, considering the amount of near deaths over bets-gone-awry from the two-person card game. Of course, that didn’t stop them from playing whilst he was away. “He’s been gone for almost an entire afternoon. You all don’t think Governor Bertram’s gone and killed him, do you?” 

Rigsby snorted, reshuffling the dog-eared cards as Cho eyed him. “I doubt we’d be that lucky.” Cho said nothing, but Rigsby could tell the stoic Sailing Master did not approve of his back handedness toward their Captain. Dealing eight cards to both himself and Mashburn, Rigsby offered up his bounty as did Mashburn with twin jests. “If I didn’t know any better, Walter, I’d say you’re concerned.” 

“Horse shit,” Mashburn replied coolly, glancing down at his hand of cards. “I just think, Governor Bertram is our best bet of finding Teresa.” Rigsby watched him shrug. “After all, who else would we curry favor with? Father Saffron?” The slight shiver down Rigsby’s spine had him remaining silent. 

“Governor Stiles of Cannibal Cove,” Cho interjected, forcing Rigsby and Mashburn to glance at him. Rigsby said nothing and Cho frowned. “If the Captain’s meeting with Governor Bertram does not end well, the Captain will force us to Cannibal Cove next. He’ll count on the neutral ground to obtain information on the Red Rum’s whereabouts.” Rigsby glanced down at his own cards, feeling bitter. He had not shared a conversation with Cho, since the stoic had tried to convince him to talk Kris down. Jane was going to become volatile no matter what, and Rigsby couldn’t control Kris anymore than Cho could control Jane. 

“If he’s alive.” 

Rigsby slammed down three cards. “He’ll be fine.” He didn’t voice his opinion on the matter, but he was far more worried about Kris in the Bertram Mansion. Jane wouldn’t let the Governor touch his First Mate, however, that didn’t mean Bertram wouldn’t try other methods to injure her - thanks to her trepid relationship with the Bertram family. “Can we just get back to playing cards already?” Quietly, Mashburn laid down his own set of cards and Rigsby cursed while Mashburn collected the ten pieces of silver. “You fuck…” 

Mashburn grinned. “Sorry, Wayne. You know the rules of the game.” Rigsby narrowed his eyes. “Don’t hate the…” 

“You  _ fucking  _ son of a  _ goddamn  _ piece of  _ fucking  _ shit!”

Kris’s screaming had Rigsby groaning, before he moved to stand. “What now?” Without another word to Cho or Mashburn, Rigsby tossed his cards aside and turned to find Jane and Kris, fighting upon the main deck. 

“Well,” Mashburn said from behind him. “He’s alive.” 

“Yeah,” Cho agreed. “But for how long?” 

Rigsby didn’t have an answer for that one. 

“Now, don’t you think you’re being a little melo…”

“Melodramatic?  _ Melodramatic _ ?” Kris shouted. Rigsby blinked. There was no way any argument between Kris and Jane was going to end well. “Jesus, Jane! Again, this is all about  _ you _ . It’s always been about you and your precious…”

“Au contraire, my dear,” Rigsby heard Jane interrupt. “I do care about more than just myself and Lisbon.” For a moment, Kris was silent and Rigsby prayed they’d get through this without intervention. Or stupidity, on Jane’s behalf. “I also care about Red…” Rigsby closed his eyes, only to hear Kris hit Jane. “Fuck!”

“Shouldn’t someone intervene?” Rigsby asked, after he had reopened his eyes to glance down at the scene below. At least, she hadn’t killed him yet. 

“No, I have been waiting for this fight most of my tenure on this crew,” Cho mused aloud, however before Rigsby could respond, he caught sight of a third party approaching the ship. From the broad shoulders and the purple overcoat, Rigsby realized that Jane  _ must  _ have invited James fucking Bertram to join their crew. 

“Well, no wonder she’s angry,” he commented to Mashburn, who only tilted his head in confusion at the statement. Rigsby huffed and rolled his eyes. “Mashburn, are you this dense?” He paused to throw his hand outwards, pointing at the looming figure of Bertram. “Which one of these things doesn’t belong here?” 

Then, he saw Mashburn’s eyes light up in understanding from beside Cho. “Ah, the Bertram boy.” He watched Mashburn purse his lips together in thought before he continued on, “This could be a problem, but I believe Kristina is focused on another at the moment.” Mashburn motioned towards Jane and Kris who were still towing the line between a fight and an all out brawl. Cho started to step forwards when Mashburn stopped him. “Don’t you want to see how this ends up, Cho?”

“You never listen, do you, Jane? Never!” Kris screamed, shoving Jane backwards. “You beg me to tell you about my history and once I do - you use it against me!” 

Rigsby threw his hand out again. “What should we wait around for? His death? Gee! Sounds like a great idea!” The brunette rolled his eyes, before he hurried down from the helm. Cho followed him.

Rigsby saw Jane’s confusion at Kris’s comments toward him. Of course, that didn’t stop him from opening his big mouth, which only made matters worse. 

“Kris,” Jane tried to reason with her, putting his hands out in front of him as if it would protect him, “this is for the greater good. He gives us the information and then, he’s gone. We all win here,” he attempted to explain, as James stood behind Jane.  _ There’s no way in hell he’ll be able to talk himself out of this one _ , Rigsby realized. Jane was asking for whatever the First Mate was about to give him - and not even he could stop it. 

He watched Kris bend down, her attention still focused on Jane. Rigsby’s stomach dropped. He tried to get her attention by clearing his throat, but her attention on Jane was unwavering as she was too consumed in her own rage. He watched her stand, blade at her side, before her eyes moved from Jane to Bertram. 

From behind Jane, Bertram laughed and in the next moment, Kris had him pinned to the ground with a blade pressed against his scarred neck. 

“Kristina!” he heard Mashburn yell, as Cho attempted to wrap his arms around Kris’s waist to remove her from Bertram. He watched as Cho finally managed to separate her and whisper something to her, but she only thrashed harder in his iron grip. 

“Let me go!” She roared, “I’m going to put his head on a pike!” Rigsby frowned at the obvious tremor in Kris’s voice as she spoke, still fighting Cho. How could Jane not see that this wasn’t mere anger; it was heartbreak and it was far more than just skin deep. He let Cho handle Kris and in turn, he looked to Jane. 

“Captain,” he addressed Jane, “there has to be another way.” He looked to Mashburn to offer a secondary suggestion, but the rhinestone-wearing pirate had nothing for him. Rigsby knew Jane could be thoughtless most of the time, but he had never considered the Captain heartless (aside from when it came to Red John). Jane had to see his First Mate was suffering - there was no way he was that clueless. 

“No,” Jane replied stoic, “there’s not.” Rigsby felt as if Jane had punched him. “Life is not always fair,  _ Officer  _ Rigsby,” the blonde Captain lectured, arms crossed against his chest as if the last twenty minutes hadn’t happened. “Each of us has or will sacrifice a part of ourselves for the returned safety of Teresa Lisbon.” Rigsby blinked, listening intently to Jane’s address. In a way, Jane was right. For Rigsby, it was more than likely going to be his friendship with Cho. For Cho, it would be either his standing or his livelihood. While Mashburn had already lost out on his opportunity to be with Lisbon at all. It was never discussed amongst the crew, but it was well known that Walter Mashburn had a thing for Lisbon; unfortunately, he had never acted upon any of those feelings, out of the fear that Jane would retaliate. Rigsby frowned. Again, while Jane  _ had  _ a valid point -- it seemed as though he kept purposely wanting Kris to suffer and Rigsby couldn’t understand why. Making sacrifices for the greater good he could understand, but to have their current First Mate lose all humanity in order to save Lisbon was harsh. He understood that the relationship between Kris and Lisbon had never been the best, and that Jane had often been frustrated; but it just seemed wrong to punish Kris for her past behavior by involving James Bertram. 

“I understand,” Rigsby replied and then added, “but sir,” to maintain Jane’s attention, “while self-sacrifice is an honorable thing; some sense of humanity keeps a person whole. It makes them who they are.” He paused to clear his throat. “If you force Kris to go through  _ this _ , you may not appreciate the end result. We’ve already lost one First Mate to the hands of Captain Red John. Do you want to be the reason we lose another?” He swallowed hard, but kept his gaze focused on Jane. The Captain seemed unchanged; but Rigsby had a feeling Jane would either punish him for being a little  _ too  _ forward or he’d just laugh him off for being too dramatic. 

Rigsby hoped for the latter, if only to keep from being assigned to night duty for the foreseeable future. 

Jane eventually peeled his eyes away from Cho and Kris, only to glance at Rigsby. The stare was almost nauseating, because while Jane could always see straight through others, he never let the talent be reciprocated; and in a way it was what made Jane one of the most successful Pirate Captains in history. 

“I have no intentions on ridding Kris of her humanity,” Jane replied, after a moment of silence (aside from Kris’s insults to Cho), “she is a valuable member of this crew and essential to finding Teresa.” Rigsby watched Jane pause to sigh, before he continued on. “But you know, as well as I do, that Kris has been running from a life full of connections. Connections that others in her position would only wish to have.” Jane touched the bridge of his nose and winced, but continued to speak. “With those connections, comes the possibility of facing them head on. She needs to stop running from her past. If this causes her grief, then maybe there will be another on this ship who understands my own plight just a tad more.” With that, Rigsby watched Jane step to the side in an attempt to free himself of the situation. 

This time, much to Rigsby’s amusement, Jane was caught by Cho in his attempts to escape. Rigsby turned to survey the scene before him, only to find Kris on her knees, heaving. His attention didn’t remain on her for long, as Bertram’s sharp cry forced Rigsby to bestow a look upon the beaten and battered form of James Bertram. Rigsby, alongside Mashburn, hurried over to Bertram to assess the damage only to find that Kris had done a number on him. 

Rigsby’s frown deepened. Bertram’s face was blotched red, thanks to several swings to his face; his neck had one swift cut on the side, which was profusely bleeding. He’d also started to tuck into himself, as if he had been protecting himself from the ferocious kick of Kris’s boot. Rigsby sighed and turned to Mashburn. 

“I’ll help him,” Mashburn calmly stated. Silence fell upon the deck for a moment until he heard Cho’s voice thunder.

“Officer meeting.  _ Now _ ,” Cho demanded. Rigsby blinked in mute surprise. The Sailing Master was in rare form and he knew, without a doubt, it was wise that they all listen to him in that moment. Straightening his shoulders, Rigsby went to stand next to his friend in solidarity. He secretly hoped Cho would understand his silent apology and it would be enough - he had no interest in losing his own humanity, just to find Lisbon. 

“I don’t think…” Jane began, but Rigsby only saw Cho’s cold stare toward the Captain. Jane had to know, again, he wasn’t getting out of this without consequence. They all needed to have a conversation about Bertram, before he managed to destroy the Scarlet Oasis and everything they strived to stand for. “Fine then. To my Quarters.” 

::::

Jane had just about enough of his Crew Officers. Between Kris yelling at him for allowing James Bertram aboard, Rigsby questioning  _ his  _ decisions and now, yet  _ another  _ Officer Meeting, which he thought to be a general waste of time. They had a mission to fulfill, and as usual - everyone was hindering his process. 

He couldn’t understand his Crew Officers - primarily Cho and Rigsby. One moment, they were at the ready to help rescue Lisbon at any cost; the next, they were calling for Officer Meetings and claiming his decisions were 'unethical’. They weren’t Captains - they were  _ fools _ ; and they needed to start understanding that  _ he  _ called the shots. Once he, safely, returned Lisbon to the Scarlet Oasis, they’d begin to change how the system worked. 

Jane moved toward his recently tidied, oak desk. His fingers brushing over the various parchments, before he moved to acknowledge his Crew Officers. Much to his disappointment, and without permission, Cho spoke first. 

“Captain,” Cho began, respectfully. Jane almost rolled his eyes. He’d caught onto their  _ little  _ trick eons ago. They thought if they started sentences off with  _ Captain _ , he’d be more willing to hear them out. Of course, it’d work if they actually meant it unironically. “You cannot just select random civilians to be a part of this crew. Regardless of last name.” 

Jane tilted his head and stared down his Sailing Master. In all the years Jane had been Captain of the Scarlet Oasis, there had never been a time that  _ he  _ had made a poor choice in recruits. Yes, the Officers had given him slight grief that Lisbon had brought Craig O’Laughlin and Kristina onto the ship, but they had learned their lesson since then. Lisbon had definitely learned, after O’Laughlin, that bringing random men onto the ship was not such a smart idea. She’d been shot for it, in fact; which, in its own way served as a punishment for her foolishness. 

As for Kristina, well, Cho and Rigsby would be utterly lost without her guidance. Why they felt the harpy was  _ somehow  _ a step up from Teresa, he wasn’t quite sure. However, out of the kindness of his heart, he let the three Officers maintain their ‘harmless’ relationship, because he needed them to get along. Now though, Jane thought differently - and he was pissed. In the past ten weeks, he had been in more trouble with his Officers than he had ever been when Lisbon was First Mate. It was the third Officer Meeting in the past month and, frankly, Jane was growing tired of their unnecessary complaints.  _ We’re hungry _ .  _ We’re tired _ .  _ Why do you keep dragging us around the goddamn ocean?  _ In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he wanted to sever the relationship between the three altogether so he could stop the forsaken meetings. 

“James Bertram’s recruitment is necessary for the safe return of Lisbon,” Jane retorted; he moved to sit down at his desk, arms folded and he clicked his tongue. “Quite frankly,” Jane began again, “I am growing a tad tired of the hypocrisy amongst my Officers.” 

“Hypocrisy?” Rigsby questioned, sounding confused. “Sir, we  _ all  _ want to find Lisbon. That’s never been questioned.”

Jane could only roll his eyes at Rigsby’s statement. Amongst his Officers, the brute had never been the smartest, but he’d been recruited for the intimidation factor he brought. Rigsby had no real concept of the politics that plagued pirate crews on a daily basis. Yes, while Rigsby had come onto this ship with a wealthy background, his parents were rich because of military duty, not because they knew their way around politics. The politics of running and maintaining a pirate crew were unique in their own right. There were a lot of dealings and bargainings that went on behind the scenes; something, Rigsby had never been exposed to. More times than not, it was left up to Jane to do most, if not all, of the talking when they were on a voyage or hostile island. They relied upon him to talk to the various politicians; just so they could ensure that they would get the information necessary. If he had given the task to someone like Rigsby, it would have been an automatic failure. From the get go, Jane understood that book smarts were not a trait of the Rigsby lineage. 

In fact, his parents were not much more than  _ average _ . Rigsby had confided in him, not too long after joining the crew, that his father had not only been a notorious bank robber but that he’d also been considered abusive toward his wife and son. It had been a heart wrenching story, especially when Jane had held more empathy for the brunette. Now, he only wanted to punch the smug bastard in his face.

“You all  _ claim  _ to care for Lisbon,” Jane explained, “but each time I attempt to make this journey easier, you do  _ this _ .” Jane extended his hand toward them, before he placed his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose. “I’m not exactly sure how you would like me to go about this.” 

“It’s simple,” Cho started. “We want you, Captain, to include us - your Officers - in each of your decisions.” He watched as Cho readjusted his body to maintain balance, but the Sailing Master never looked away. Jane thought it was unnerving, but not enough so that it wouldn’t let him stand his ground. 

“I shared it with our First Mate,” Jane said, motioning in Kris’s direction. Rigsby and Cho turned slightly to glance at Kris, who had somehow maneuvered herself toward the back of the room. She was sitting in one of the chairs at his round table, which they primarily used for smaller Officer Meetings - or cards, when he was in a benevolent mood. However, as Jane continued to glance at Kris, he could see no movement aside from the rapid motion from her chest. It seemed that she was in some type of a catatonic state. 

In fact, for the first time since her arrival, she was deadly silent; and Jane wasn’t sure if he should feel relief or dread for what was to come from her, later on. Either way, he wasn’t about to ask her for verification; just because an argument had broken out between them, didn’t mean he had to run it past her. He was, after all, the Captain. 

“In case you’ve forgotten,  _ sir _ , you two aren’t the only  _ leaders  _ aboard this vessel,” Rigsby replied, spitting as he inched toward the desk. Jane wrinkled his nose. “You and Kristina are not supreme rulers of the Scarlet Oasis.” Rigsby placed both his hands firmly atop Jane’s desk, whilst looking him directly in the eye. “We are a ship of checks and balances. Once we start ignoring those, we become just like Red John and his crew of vermin.” He watched as Rigsby cleared his throat and looked back at him, which only caused Jane to lean back into his upholstered seat. 

Jane opened his mouth to speak, “I brought Mister Bertram aboard, because of his family’s direct connection with Red John.” Jane paused for a moment, for effect of course, to bite at his fingernails. “Have you all forgotten the influence of a Bertram?” 

“No,” Kris firmly replied, after another moment of silence, “but you’re an  _ idiot  _ if you think he’ll help you with our situation.” Jane watched Kris run her hand through her hair and sit up a bit straighter, before she spoke again. “Also, have  _ you  _ forgotten that he’s a complete invalid?” Her voice, already nagging, rose in Jane’s ears. She was obviously becoming angrier with each sentence, but as Jane had learned, there was no controlling her fierce temper. “That his,  _ supposed _ , accident has caused him to be widely discredited. Not even Governor Wainwright takes him seriously.”

“His  _ what _ ?!” 

Kris stood from her chair to leer. “I mean, hell, it says a  _ lot  _ for a fool to not even take you seriously.” 

Jane managed a snort that escaped through his nostrils. Kris wasn’t wrong necessarily, but he couldn’t argue her direct point. Governor Luther Wainwright had been the butt of many a poor joke in his lifetime, since he was consistently inebriated. Luckily, Jane had been able to take care of the Wainwright problem pretty swiftly. When they had been on Jubilee Island, it was clear that the governor was still bitter about what had happened six years ago on Shell Island.

After their excursion to Wainwright’s “party” island, and his reluctance to help them find Teresa, Jane had felt insulted that Wainwright had not understood that what he’d done had been for the betterment of pirates everywhere. Therefore, before he had left the island Jane decided to turn to the local gossip; he had heard Kris mention his name in passing to Rigsby and Cho, but never considered using the man to help him out. During the night, he had snuck off to find the man Kris said was named Volker. He was a scrawny man with unkempt hair and a greedy personality; all qualities Jane thoroughly liked in a man. Jane paid Volker a healthy sum of funds to run a story about Wainwright that claimed he was embezzling from his own island. Jane had provided false documentation to Volker, which gave clear evidence that Wainwright involved himself with shady businessmen. Jane never got word on what happened to the Governor, but he assured himself that it all turned out for the best. 

Kris’s voice interrupted his train of thought. “He will be of no help in finding your  _ precious _ First Mate, instead, he’ll hope for her demise.” She spoke once more, straightening her shoulders. “I want him off the ship. His presence has already begun to cause problems.” She motioned in front of her as she spoke. “Look at us, we’re already fighting about it. This is exactly what Red John and the Bertram family want,” she huffed, “for us to fight with each other instead of against our common enemy - them.” She pointed towards his quarter doors and walked over next to Cho to stand beside him, “I am sure there is something in the rules about this. This was not how it was decided when I wanted to be a crew member.” She paused for a moment; Jane saw that her mouth was about to open again, before he saw Walter walk into the room with a grim expression. 

“You’re right, Kristina,” Walter agreed; nodding his head, “this was not how you were ultimately chosen to become a part of this crew.” 

“Kristina,” Jane began, “was a different case. We were not in the crisis we are right now; Lisbon was still with us” Jane was beginning to lose his patience with his Officers. He understood that Cho, Rigsby, and Kris would, inevitably, be disobedient, but he always thought he could rely on Walter. He never thought that Walter would betray him like this and it made Jane’s blood boil. “And to be quite honest…”

“Don’t,” Kris interrupted, as she moved to hold her hand in front of her. “I was put through  _ months  _ of your rigorous questioning and continuous physical exams before I was considered  _ official _ .” Again, Jane wanted to remind her things  _ had  _ been different. Bertram hadn’t appeared, upon  _ his  _ vessel, reeking of booze and sweat. He hadn’t appeared, wearing Lisbon’s blood either, like Kristina had. “Yet,” she continued, slowly, “you’re going to just hand him the helm without questioning his allegiances? He’s a Bertram, for fuck sake!” Blinking at her, he had to bite back his chuckle. If he had known she was a Saffron when Lisbon had brought her aboard, he would have welcomed her with open arms in an attempt to gather intel on Red John. Of course, the bitch had decided upon being difficult within their first meeting. “You might as well dig our graves now.” 

Jane rolled his eyes and glanced to Mashburn, who didn’t look amused. “The charter allows for me to make exceptions…”

“...when you have _reasonable_ proof,” Rigsby interrupted. Under his breath, Jane cursed. He knew the damned charter! He’d written it with Mashburn after Captain Red John had killed Angela and Charlotte. Mashburn had told him a charter would keep them from turning into the Red Rum, which at the time he had wholeheartedly agreed with. However, if finding Captain Red John meant turning _into_ Red John - he’d do it, if only to save his disobedient first mate from herself. “And so far, you’ve given us nothing to prove Bertram would be an asset.” 

“Unfortunately, Patrick, Wayne’s right,” Mashburn answered, his voice layered with hesitation. Jane watched him step to the set of bookcases, only to retrieve the single leather bound book that consisted of the Scarlet Oasis’s charter. He said nothing else, until he had the charter open. “While you  _ do  _ have veto power to go against us, you do need  _ reasonable  _ proof. Citing the Bertram name is not reasonable enough proof to have the lad join us on our journey.” Jane watched Mashburn’s frown deepen, and in turn, he gritted his teeth. What good was having the title of  _ Captain _ , especially if he couldn’t go about doing  _ exactly  _ what he wanted? “I’m sorry, Patrick.” 

_ You aren’t _ , Jane thought coolly,  _ but I assure you will be.  _

“I thought you  _ wanted  _ to find Lisbon.” He watched Mashburn flinch as though he’d been hit. “However,” he glanced at all of his officers. “I’m starting to think you’d all rather she be  _ dead _ .” His dig at his Officers was mostly successful, as both Rigsby and Mashburn had the decency to appear appalled.

Kris and Cho, on the other hand, hadn’t reacted. He hadn’t figured he could get a rise out of Kris, considering her general dislike for Lisbon (though the woman had saved her). But he  _ had  _ anticipated Cho showing a little something more, following his earlier display of displaced rage. 

“You’re an idiot, Jane,” Cho remarked stoically. “This isn’t about Lisbon, you’re just making it that way.” Jane narrowed his eyes. Everything they were  _ doing  _ was about Lisbon, even if everyone else was too stupid to see it. “This is about the Bertram that’s currently lying unconscious in a cot right now. This is about how this could be a danger to our crew.” Bertram had dug his  _ own  _ grave. Regardless of the situation between him and Kris, that didn’t mean that Bertram Junior wasn’t useful. “If this were about Lisbon, her name would be brought up, but it’s amazing how you manage to twist it into it being about her.”

“I’ve said Lisbon’s name…”

“No,” Kris interrupted. “You’ve said Red John’s. You’ve said your own. You’ve said  _ Bertram’s _ . You only mention Lisbon when it’s about winning the argument; not because you actually give a flying fuck.” Rolling his eyes, Jane stood to snatch the charter away from Mashburn. 

“If I didn’t give a  _ flying fuck _ ,” Jane spat, “I wouldn’t have added an amendment regarding Lisbon’s possible abduction, only made possible by my  _ bumbling  _ crew officers.”

“You wrote that charter over a decade ago, Jane. Your intentions have clearly changed,” Kris retorted.

“You’re also failing to grasp the idea that we,” Cho snapped, “did not have her kidnapped. O’Laughlin did. We did not write him a letter and ask him to please take our fucking First Mate. That sounds like something you might do; considering how shitty you had been to her that day.” Jane eyed Cho, alarmed. How dare he! He’d been nothing but  _ kind  _ to Lisbon. He’d given her food. He’d given her a  _ place  _ to stay, just like he had with everyone else on his ship too. 

And how did they repay him? By pulling  _ this _ . 

“Do you ever just  _ stop  _ and hear yourself talk, Cho?” Jane asked, gritting his teeth again. “I should have just left you with your  _ prior  _ Master, after all, I’ve shown nothing but kindness and…”

“Can we please shut the hell up about Lisbon and get back to the matter at hand?” Kris asked. “This is what he does! He gets us all into a tizzy about something else entirely so that way we forget what we were originally talking about.” Kris paused in her rantings, but continued on, “The matter was about the fact that James Daniel-fucking Bertram is lying in a fucking cot right now and for all we know he’s plotting to give our location up to Red John and we’re all done for! This is a complete waste of my time. Fuck the charter, I’ll take care of this myself!” She started to turn to leave, when Mashburn grabbed her arm. “Let go of me, asshole!” 

“Not until you promise not to go about executing half of our crew  _ and  _ a Governor's son, no matter how much of an ass he is,” Mashburn told her, eventually dropping her elbow. Kris’s hand went to her scabbard, before she returned to glance at Jane. 

“Execute? I would never, but I will give him a taste of his own medicine. Welcome to the Scarlet Oasis, James Bertram!” Jane could only imagine what her idea of a welcome party was. Kris turned to run from the Captain’s Quarters, which forced Jane to wave Rigsby after her with a sigh. 

“I doubt that’s how you expected today to go, Patrick,” Mashburn said cheerfully, after a moment of silence between the three remaining individuals. “ _ Yo ho, yo ho… _ ”

“Mashburn?” 

“Yes, Patrick?”

“Shut up, and get the  _ hell  _ out of my Quarters.” 

Both rushed to comply. 


	7. Chapter 7

“Well, shit.”

“I’m sorry, miss?” Bertram said, blinking slowly and Kris eyed him. Was he honestly daft not to understand what had made her curse? Moving closer to him, she gaped at his newfound appearance. The unruly facial hair did him no justice and the ponytail he, now, sported only looked unkempt. She’d always thought men of government standing were meant to be clean shaven. “Are you alright?” Kris moved to cross her arms against her chest. Was he serious? Did he really not recognize her? 

She held her chin high. Aside from the short, choppy cut of her hair - something she had done on the advice of Lisbon, to make her look less ‘feminine’ - and her ‘borrowed’ attire from Cho, she didn’t think she looked that different. Eyeing her former friend again, she finally shook her head. “It’s nothing.” She waved him away. “Aren’t you supposed to be running an island far off from here?” Not that she’d been paying attention, but that’s what she had heard. Bertram had been sent to run Shell Island. It hadn’t been a surprise to her; Gale Bertram had always wanted his son to uphold the family legacy of leadership, brutality, and abuse. 

Much to Gale’s dismay, however, his son had taken after the once matriarch of the Bertram family - Kristina Frye-Bertram. Kris figured Gale resented his son’s compassion and understanding for the people around him, as the elder had continued to implement “leadership skills” onto his son by beating him; sometimes, by even withholding basic needs, for days on end. It had always pissed her off, but at the time, there hadn’t been much she could do - unless she had wanted to be beaten herself. 

“I can only assume that my father sent you to test my abilities to follow instructions,” he said, after a moment of silence. Kris tilted her head. What in the hell was he talking about? Bertram had been a hell of a lot better at following instructions than she had ever been. “I assure both you and my father, miss, I didn’t lose the ability to follow directions.” 

Kris continued to tilt her head. Was he serious? “What in the hell are you talking about? I’m not here to test you, or whatever horseshit you said.” She turned slightly to show him her scabbard, which displayed the Scarlet Oasis colors. “See? Pirate.” 

His eyes widened, almost comically, as he proceeded to ignore her previous question. “How did you, a  _ woman _ , join…” Kris narrowed her eyes. There was no way he wasn’t being serious. Whatever had happened to the man, who once told her she could do anything? That gender shouldn’t limit her decisions? Because  _ that  _ James Bertram wouldn’t have asked her, let alone any woman, about how she joined a pirate crew. 

“It’s called skill and tenacity,” Kris spat, after she had found her voice again. “Something that sitting at a desk and on your ass doesn’t require.” She watched him open his mouth. “I could slice off your hand before you even blink, so don’t.” 

He continued to stare at her. “You mean, you’re actually good for something more than just cooking, servitude, and childbearing?” He paused to snort. “Don’t make me laugh.” 

Kris growled. “You fucking idiot, Bertram! What is not getting through to you?” She watched him blink, still obviously confused. “Pirate! Scarlet Oasis! Come on, I know you aren’t this stupid.” He continued to give her a blank expression and after another moment of silence, she sighed. “Bertram, it’s Kris. Kristina Saffron.” She raised her fist, tapping at his head with her knuckles. “Are you in there, Bertram, or should I call the…?” She couldn’t finish her sentence, as Bertram interrupted her by pulling out his own blade; the sharp tip against her throat. “You’re serious right now? This is how we solve our problems?” 

“Shut up, strumpet.” 

She swallowed roughly at the derogatory term. “James Daniel Bertram. I am not playing this game with you, especially when you’ll fucking…” She was interrupted again, as he backhanded her across the face - hard. In surprise, she jumped backwards only to charge at him with her sword. “Don’t you EVER touch me again. Or the next time,” her voice grew louder, echoing in the rotunda, as she held the blade high enough to swipe his cheek. “It’ll go through your fucking heart. Mark my words, Bertram. I  _ will  _ kill you.” Letting her sword fall to the ground with a clatter, she shoved him backwards and onto the marble floor with a loud thud. 

Bertram stared up at her, his green eyes (devoid of all warmth) meeting hers, before he pulled the collar aside on his white dress shirt. “Go ahead and kill me then.” She stared down at him, anger building as he violently tugged at his collar again. “You’d be doing us all a favor anyway, Saffron.” The spitting of her last name broke the enchantment he had her under. She had left James Bertram in her past for a reason, especially as he had always enjoyed playing the victim. Jane hadn’t brought her onto Governor’s Island to cause an incident. He’d brought her to sniff out Lisbon’s possible location (and possibly, to annoy her as well). 

Her sword continued to hover over his chest, her hand trembling.  _ This is an act _ , she thought as her grip tightened. She didn’t trust him enough to not be playing the victim, only to stab her moments later. She instead, spat at his feet and lifted her chin high. “Why kill you?” She questioned in a voice, which almost mimicked her father and his - and it made her stomach churn. “Why kill you when that’s what you want?” She laughed and placed her left foot on his stomach. “No, I won’t kill you. I’ll let you live with the fact that you are only the mirror image of your father. That the only compassion and love you are capable of is when you are splitting another’s throat.” She paused to swallow and to regain her composure. “That the only time you experience joy, is when everyone else around you is miserable.  _ You  _ have to live with that, not me.” She removed her sword from pointing at his chest, her heart pounding madly. “I only have to live with the idea that I had once lo...gave a shit about you.” With her heart breaking (again), Kris stared down at Bertram coldly. How could she have  _ ever  _ been that stupid? “Trust me. I regret that, and to kill you? Well,” she kicked at his side with her boot, “that would just be silly. Not when you could live with your guilt. After all, that eats at even the most stable of men.” 

He continued to stare up at her, before he snorted at her again. “You always were weak, Kris…” Anger building again, Kris slammed her fist into his pelvic area. 

Bertram yowled. “You fucking…!” 

She silenced him, afterwards, by punching him square in the jaw. 

“Like I was trying to say, before I was so  _ rudely  _ interrupted, you are going to lose,” Kris told him, her lips pursed, as she stepped away from his prone form. 

:::

Settling into one of the oversized armchairs, after another half-hour, Kris smirked upwards toward one of the disgruntled servants. In her pocket, she held one of the Bertram family spoons - something she’d taken, after wandering her way back into the dining room. “So, is this when you go in and retrieve your Master? Or shall I?” The poor woman seemed besides herself. 

“You’ve done quite enough, miss,” the servant replied, which had Kris rolling her eyes. “Stealing silverware! You also knocked out young Mister Bertram…” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Kris told her, as she threw her boots on the coffee table. She’d been taught, aside from commands and punishments, to never openly speak with the help.  _ They are here to serve us, Kristina _ , her father had said,  _ they do not deserve your pity for their terrible life choices.  _ Seeing Bertram again, however, reminded her how closely she had come to continuing to follow her father’s life lessons. She didn’t want to be anything like Bertram. Or worse, her parents. “So, I’m honestly curious; did you sign your soul over to Governor Bertram in exchange for him smelling your knickers?” 

“For your information, Kristina,” Gale interrupted, as he strode into the room with Jane on his heels. “My servants have no need for knickers.” Kris nearly lost the contents of her stomach. Bertram had told her, after his mother had died that his father enjoyed hiring servants, who he could have his wicked ways with. The idea that he kept them  _ all  _ without undergarments forced her to side-eye him strongly. 

“Well then, Gale,” she replied, after pretending to retch, “please excuse me, whilst I vomit all over you and your marble floor. Or, should I get sick on your son’s face instead?” She watched as his posture stiffened. “Oh, I forgot. You haven’t been told yet.” Kris glanced toward the servant. “Well, go on. Tell your Master.” Kris glanced downwards at her fingernails, uninterested, as she heard the servant stammer. “Or, I have a  _ better  _ idea; let me show you what happened.” Kris rose from her seat. “Come on! Let’s take a walk, and we’ll all have so much fun.” She started off, without looking back; even though she heard the servant stammer: 

“Miss…!” 

Kris ignored her. “Come on, Gale, I don’t have all day, I have a disgraced First Mate to find!” She could feel Jane’s glare at the back of her head. “Oh, don’t be a sourpuss, Jane. I also have a disgraced Captain to appease as well.” Kris dragged the three through the hallways, until again, she stood above James Bertram - who still appeared to be unconscious. “Ta-Da!” 

Jane stammered a response to what Kris had just shown everyone. “Kris, please tell me the boy isn’t dead. I really don’t want to lose a second First Mate; people might actually start to believe the stories about our ship…” 

“What in the hell did your wench do to my son, Captain Jane!?” 

“I only roughed him up a little, Gale. Why? You don’t like that I got there first?”

Gale stared at her, blinking. “Are you insane? You can’t just go around, knocking people unconscious!” He turned to glance at Jane. “Do something about your stupid First Mate before I do something!” 

“I’m sorry, Gale, but I thought that’s what you did to him nightly so he could sleep better or am I mishearing?” If Kris hadn’t seen the many colors of Gale Bertram before, she would have been impressed with the color of puce he was turning. “Seasick, Gale? Spending too much time on the Red Rum?” 

“I...you…” 

Jane glanced to Kris. “Is he alive?” 

“For the moment,” Kris responded. “But that can always change. Just say the word.” She started to remove her sword, which forced Jane to pry it away from her. “Now, you’re just being an ass.” 

“You knocked the Governor’s son unconscious, Kris,” Jane told her, seriously. She almost doubled over laughing at his attempt to play adult. “There are going to be hearty consequences to pay.” 

“Yes,” she replied, slowly, “there will be. One being that he will probably live through his injuries and that’s a punishment the world over. I absolutely agree with you, Jane. It really is a shame.” 

Gale gaped at Kris again, before he stepped over to his son - only to slap him across the face. Bertram startled awake, his jaw rapidly bruising from her good knockout. “Get off the goddamn floor, you idiot!” Kris watched as James attempted to slowly stand, only for Kris to snicker at him. “A governor’s son does not lie around on the floor!” Before Bertram could open his mouth, Gale clipped his son on the back of the head. Kris grinned. For the first time in her entire life, Gale was actually  _ useful _ . 

“I apologize for my First Mate’s decision…”

“Oh, come off it!” Kris interrupted, as she threw her arms in the air. “We’re not actually sorry, Jane. We only say that to keep up appearances. Hell! Even Gale is probably secretly happy that we’ve knocked his child down a peg.” Kris paused to shrug. “Maybe two.” 

“That doesn’t mean you can go around and punch people,” Jane warned her, although she imagined he was quite pleased with her. It was clear, from previous tales of woe, that Jane didn’t appreciate the Governor of Governor Island. 

“What’s done is done, Jane. I am not apologizing for it. He pissed me off. This is what happens,” she continued to grin as she explained herself. 

Gale glanced at his son, who had taken on a bit of green hue. Kris hoped it had something to do with her fist to his balls. “Are you done acting like an unhinged maniac?” 

Bertram nodded, appearing almost apologetic. “I’m sorry, sir.” 

“Sorry isn’t enough, son,” Gale sternly responded, “you got your ass handed to you by a woman. That’s disgraceful.”

“I don’t know about that,” Kris interrupted the conversation between father and son. “I find that getting your ass handed to you by a woman actually makes you  _ more  _ humble.” Both of them turned to stare at her and she only grinned. “What? Is it just me that feels this way?” 

“Clearly,” Bertram retorted; even though he spat up blood as he did so. 

“Is it professional to be spitting up blood?” 

“Captain!” Gale exploded in rage, “Get your pathetic excuse for a First Mate away from my house! Now!” 

“Funny,” Kris commented, “I always thought the pathetic title should go to Lisbon. Not me.” She could only shrug. Jane turned to glance at her, his expression warning her to stop. “Let’s go, Jane. I think we have done all the damage we could today.” She turned her back on the three men and began to walk away - until she heard Jane’s voice echo in her ears. 

“Come on, Bertram.”

Suddenly, Kris spun on her heels to stare at Jane. “Pardon me? I could have  _ sworn  _ you just said, ‘Come on, Bertram.’.” When he said nothing for a moment, her heart nearly stopped. “What did Gale have you drink?!” 

Jane tilted his head, before he added. “That’s because I did say that.” 


	8. Chapter 8

“Is this absolutely necessary, Bret?” Jane asked, sounding exasperated, as James Bertram slid into the chair next to Kris. Governor Bret Stiles, both friend and ally for nearly a decade, merely glanced up from his own ledger and smiled. Kris scowled, as she scooted her chair away from him, forcing Stiles to raise an eyebrow. Jane tried to offer the Governor an apologetic smile; in the weeks of sailing from Governor’s Island to Cannibal Cove, Kris had yet come to terms with the addition of James to the crew roster. Honestly, it was safe to say she hated him for the split decision. However, what choice did he have? If it was between finding Lisbon and the Red Rum, he’d choose that over Kris’s feelings, every time. 

When Stiles had accepted his meeting request, the Governor had directed that he bring only 

his most  _ essential  _ crew upon Cannibal Cove to meet with him, which he had assumed was his crew officers. However, the moment Bret had greeted all of them -- dressed in an obnoxiously bright crimson suit, the attire befitting the Governor of a cannibalistic nation -- the Governor had taken one look at him and had asked him where  _ Mister Bertram  _ was. Cho and Mashburn hadn’t seemed bothered by the request, while both Kris and Rigsby had protested vehemently. 

Jane had been humiliated, even as he had ordered Cho to fetch the Bertram nuisance. Just because he’d decided that Bertram would be useful, didn’t mean others had to extend the same courtesy. He had learned early on though that requests from Stiles were best followed and not ignored, as the Governor had no qualms about human suffering. His very first introduction to the man, nearly eight years ago, had left him stranded on the island for nearly six weeks and Lisbon berating him for another two. It hadn’t occurred to him that there was a protocol with Stiles, that hadn’t quite existed with any of the other Governors. 

With Governors’ Wainwright and Bertram Senior, for example, it was quite acceptable to drop by unannounced; it wasn’t a crime that could be punishable by death or prison. On Cannibal Cove, however, dropping by unannounced was a justifiable cause for punishment. He’d taken Rigsby on the island, only a handful of times through the years and Kris had never met the Governor, as she had never been important enough to do so. 

Unfortunately, this meant that neither his current First Mate or Master Gunner knew how Bret Stiles worked. Warning them, with both of them beyond angry at the addition of Bertram to the crew, had seemed quite pointless. So, to Kris (and to Rigsby), he probably seemed as though he were a pushover, because he just couldn’t say  _ no _ . 

“I said  _ all  _ essential crew members, Patrick,” Bret replied, after a moment of tense silence, “and as I last recall, Mister Bertram is an essential crew member.” Jane heard someone (Kris) snort. She’d made it no secret how she felt about Bertram Junior. “None of that, Kristina.” Stiles turned his gaze slightly, as though he were scrutinizing her. “As Patrick’s First Mate, you should know better than to belittle a member of your crew.” 

Kris rolled her eyes. “He’s not a member of our crew.” Stiles raised an eyebrow in his direction and Jane gave a coy smile. “ _ Nowhere  _ did I remember allowing him to join our crew,” Kris continued as though Bertram weren’t in the room with them. “It would do you well to remember that,  _ Governor  _ Stiles.” 

Stiles chuckled lightly. “Regardless of your feelings, young Mister Bertram does hold an important key to finding Teresa Lisbon.” 

“Oh?” Mashburn interrupted, sitting next to Cho. “I would have certainly never guessed.” There was another moment of awkward silence, as Jane attempted to keep from chuckling. Kris turned her head briefly to eye Mashburn. “Sorry. I’m just anxious.” He offered her a slight smile, before he glanced at Stiles. “I’m hoping you have some good news for us, Governor Stiles.” 

Stiles steepled his fingers together. “I can’t imagine the disappearance of First Mate Lisbon has been easy, Mister Mashburn.” Stiles frowned. “In many ways, Teresa held this crew together.” Jane heard Kris scoff and Stiles glanced in her direction. “You obviously don’t agree with my assessment.” 

“Out of respect for Mashburn,” Kris started, her voice low. “I won’t speak my thoughts on Lisbon.” Stiles said nothing. “So, do you have anything useful or not?” 

Stiles smiled again. “Are you always so tactful, Kristina.” Jane watched her roll her eyes, as she crossed her arms against her chest. “Alas, the Good Captain has not paid me a visit in sometime. It’s quite a shame, as he always brings me such wonderful presents.” Nobody had to ask twice what Stiles meant by  _ presents _ . “His last gift, for example, was Craig O’Laughlin.” Jane’s jaw nearly hit the floor. Red John had killed his First Mate? “Ah. I take it that none of you were aware.” 

“This isn’t exactly something the Red Rum announces,” Cho remarked, shrugging, while Rigsby blinked several times. Jane had a feeling his Master Gunner was attempting to wrap his head around the idea of O’Laughlin being gone. But to him, it didn’t matter. Any world without O’Laughlin was a better one in his opinion; and he knew, if Lisbon were there, she’d share his same world view. 

On his other side, he heard Rigsby mutter, “why in the hell would he kill his First Mate?” 

“It’s Red John,” Kris replied, matter-of-factly. “Why does he do anything?” 

Rigsby glanced at her, his brows furrowing. “I’ve studied the Red Rum and Red John for months. The Captain of the Red Rum doesn’t just kill his First Mate, unless…”

“Unless,” Bertram finished for him, quietly. “He disobeyed his Captain’s wishes.” Rigsby nodded, even though Jane imagined that agreeing with  _ Bertram  _ had to be killing him. However, it was true. Red John didn’t dare kill another, unless it was related to mutiny or incompetence; and if Jane had to guess, Craig O’Laughlin was probably killed for incompetence. 

“Again, tell me why it matters?” Kris asked as she crossed her arms against her chest. “O’Laughlin’s dead. This is what you’ve all wanted for years, so congratulations.” Out of the corner of his eye, Bertram grimaced and Jane turned to narrow his eyes on the invalid. 

“What is it, Bertram? Mourning the loss of the man you helped to kidnap my First Mate? I wonder if Red John realizes he has two people to kill for their incompetence.” Jane smirked as Bertram reacted to his accusation by shooting up from the table, his fists clenched, only to watch Kris grab his arm to attempt to pull him downwards. 

“Let go of my arm,” growled Bertram. “I’m about to teach this weasel a lesson.” 

“Sit down.” He watched Kris bare her teeth at the boy with a chortle. “A brawl between you two would be like watching two slugs go at one another. Slow and disappointing.”

“Add salt, and you’d be speaking my language,” Stiles retorted from the head of the table, his smile sharp. 

“Salt is only good with tequila, you moron,” she chided at Stiles and he frowned disapprovingly at her. “Oh, you can go fu…!””

“Kris,” Jane muttered, clenching his teeth together. “Behave.” Kris turned to glance at him, meeting his gaze with one of her own. “You’re forgetting yourself here.” The last thing any of them needed was an incident with Stiles, who did not play well with others. Jane turned his head slightly to glance at Stiles with an insolent grin. “Sorry, Bret. It’s been a long day for all of us.” 

Stiles waved him off. “Don’t fret, Patrick. This isn’t the first time I’ve been told to go fuck myself.” 

“Maybe if he stopped instigating fights,” he heard Kris begin, her tone dark, “then we wouldn’t have this problem.” 

“Maybe,” Bertram started, mimicking Kris, “if the Captain didn’t arrange to have his First Mate kidnapped, then we wouldn’t have this…” Before Bertram could finish his sentence, Jane was on his feet and had his hand wrapped around Bertram’s neck, before he used his other hand to sock the invalid in the face. He watched Bertram fall backward, which prompted Jane to walk back to his seat. That is, until Jane felt a pair of hands push against his back. Before Jane could blink, he felt himself slam into the wall, face first, behind Stiles. 

Pain blinded him immediately, as he tasted blood. He waited for another blow, throwing his hands over his head, but only heard the sound of Kris screaming at the idiot for his actions. 

“Get outside now!” He heard Kris shout. Truth be told, the screaming was hurting his head more than the blow had. Could she please take it down an octave?

“Dinner  _ and  _ entertainment,” Stiles cheerfully added, as Jane heard Kris pulling Bertram out of the room with her. “You  _ do  _ always provide me with the best, Patrick. Next time, however, please do not bleed all over my rug. It scares away my dinner.” 

Pressing his fingers to his bleeding nose, Jane glanced up at Stiles. “Can we just talk about the matter at hand?”

  
  


::::

Gritting his teeth, Rigsby almost followed Kris and Bertram until Cho grabbed him by the arm. “This isn’t your fight.” He grimaced and reluctantly took his seat, his eyes still focused on the unoccupied seat of Bertram’s. He felt his stomach go into knots as he sat there. He hated when the crew fought, not that it wasn’t on a daily basis, but it only hindered an already long process. Over the course of their travels, he had heard Kris scream more times than he could count. If it wasn’t Jane grating on her nerves because of unfinished work, it was Bertram breathing down her neck about Jane’s inane behavior. 

While he had yet to open his mouth about her treatment, Rigsby wasn’t about to let Bertram get away with nearly hitting her. It didn’t matter that Bertram had been trying to get at Jane, as the idea of hitting Kris, to him, was inconceivable. 

“Part of my job is protecting those around me,” Rigsby chided. He gave Cho a cold stare and turned back to focus on Bertram’s empty seat. Bertram didn’t have to be in the room for him to become angry again. The newest First Mate was reckless and independent to a fault, which was why it was best to proceed with caution. All it would take was for Bertram to “accidentally” hit her and she would blow. Two dead crewman, one of them being their Captain, was not an ideal situation for the crew or for Lisbon’s eventual rescue. 

“While your intentions are noble, Wayne,” Stiles replied, still smiling, “I doubt Kristina would appreciate your protection, considering she’s more than capable by herself.” From the corner of his eye, he found Mashburn nodding and that angered him even more. Considering the rhinestone-wearing, womanizer had cozied himself up to Baby Bertram, Rigsby felt that the ship’s financer had no right to agree with the island’s cannibalistic governor. “However, I  _ do  _ believe that your Captain wished to discuss the matter of hand. We’ll let Mr. Bertram and Kristina go cool off, before we apprise them of the situation at hand.”

_ Or kill each other _ , Rigsby thought with a grimace. Stiles was such an optimist, it almost made him sick. Stiles’ words were always clouded in double-meanings. So, one never really knew if Stiles was going to deal with the situation at hand or go off track. He never understood why Jane always insisted on returning to this island. It never gleamed into any insights aboard the Red Rum; it was true that Stiles had told them about O’Laughlin, but how could they trust Stiles’ word? They had been mislead by this man in the past. He had once confided to Jane that he didn’t trust Stiles, but Jane had waved him off. Jane had told him that Rigsby just didn’t understand the intricacies of pirate politics. That it took a special brand of pirate to unravel Stiles’ meaning; as if Jane and Stiles spoke in code. The thought almost made Rigsby chuckle until he heard Jane’s voice in his ears. 

“You’ll have to make this a good one, Bret,” Jane stated. “We don’t have too much time left.” Rigsby jerked his head backwards, surprise written across his face. 

“You can’t be serious!” 

Stiles glanced in Rigsby’s direction. “Are you alright, Wayne?” 

Rigsby blinked. Was Stiles joking? “Do I  _ look  _ alright to you, Stiles?” Stiles shook his head slightly and under the table, Rigsby clenched his fists. “Again with this unnecessary six month rule! I thought we decided against it, after Rebecca’s…” 

Jane narrowed his eyes. “Rebecca was a special case. She was not kidnapped, she willingly left the ship to join the Red Rum. We weren’t about to look for someone who didn’t want to be found.”

“That’s not how I remember it, Patrick,” Mashburn answered with a frown. “As I recall, you exchanged some pretty heated words with…” 

Jane stood from the table. “Does it really matter what I said? It’s been seven years, let it go already!” Rigsby opened his mouth to reply, because he remembered Rebecca. She hadn’t been an extraordinary crewmember, but she had been someone he’d gotten along with quite well. Mashburn had even enjoyed her company, in between pining for Lisbon. 

However, Mashburn’s anger kept Rigsby from commenting. 

“It does matter, Patrick!” Mashburn yelled, standing to his full height. “This is not about some nobody on our crew like Rebecca! This is about Teresa! She was your First Mate! Someone that valuable isn’t just forgotten about!”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back and better than ever with a new chapter! Hope you all enjoy! 
> 
> One more thing -- I'm currently hosting a TM gift exchange on AO3; details can be found in my profile if you're interested in joining us!

Pinning James against a tree, outside Stiles’ Manor, Kris considered wringing his neck. She had every intention of doing just that, but that wouldn’t teach him anything; it would just give him a nice bruise. Sure, she could boast that she managed to bruise him, but she was more interested in making sure James knew his place on this crew. 

“You just had to take the bait with Jane, didn’t you?” Kris flung her arms out to her sides and gaped at him. “You couldn’t just let it go. We could’ve had a short meeting and gone back to the ship, but no, you needed to be macho.” What was with men and having to flex their muscles all the time? There was a time and place to have a smackdown; in front of a Governor whose diet consisted of human flesh and cooked vegetables wasn’t that time.

“This isn’t about being macho, Saffron,” he replied. “This is about…” She almost laughed in his face. Did he really think she cared what he thought? The universe help them all if he did. 

“This is about you and your need to belittle my position on this ship!” She knew that Bertram was gunning for her position aboard the Scarlet Oasis. How else do you take over the seas with Red John? You make Red John’s enemy become their ally. It was simple politics; when you don’t like something inside the system - you change it to your liking. In the world of politics, that involved espionage and money exchanging hands. She was positive Bertram had received small compensation just for getting onto this ship. She wasn’t about to go down without a fight; she may hate Jane, but she hated traitors even more.

She watched as James tilted his head and stared at her. “Why in the hell would I want your job, Saffron?” He spat on the ground and cleared his throat. “It would require me to like having a male’s dick in my mouth. I don’t go that way.” He smirked at her and then decided to continue speaking, as if that was a good idea. “You don’t have half the power you think you do. Jane just lets you believe that.”

“And Jane lets you believe that you’re contributing something.” She scoffed at her own comment. “When in reality, he only has you here to appease your father.” She wasn’t completely sure if her statement was entirely true. There were a number of factors to consider with the Bertram family. There was always a motive inside another motive. She hadn’t been able to pin it down just yet, but she was sure she could get someone to put it together for her. Like hell was he going to let her in on the secret. “I’m sure the only way Jane was able to gain any insight into Red John was buying you off of Daddy!” 

“Are you insinuating that I’m property?”

“I’m insinuating that you are simply a means to an end,” she replied and shrugged her shoulders. “You didn’t actually believe that you were going to be helpful to the cause, did you?” 

“I…”

“That’s right, you won’t be,” she spat. “Once Jane realizes that he just got conned by your father, he’ll just kill you and then my problems will be solved!” She threw her hands up in the air and grinned at the thought of James finally being out of her life - permanently. With how she was feeling, the idea warmed her soul. 

“Just like he had Craig killed?” Instead of replying, she brought her hand to smack against her face. She knew he was an idiot, but he just kept digging himself deeper. “Oh come off it! You want to accuse me of sucking Red John’s dick, I might as well accuse Jane of killing Craig.” Kris said nothing. “He might not have pulled the trigger, but he had a  _ hit  _ out on the man’s head! You work for a psychopath!” 

“Craig O’Laughlin betrayed my entire crew! Why would Jane want him to live?” 

“If he could sentence one man to death so easily, what stops him from killing you?” 

“Nothing,” she replied coolly. “I am well aware Jane’s loyalty to me sways with the wind. If you could even call it loyalty. If he wants to get rid of me, he will and I really can’t do much about that.” She paused. “Well, except outsmart him.” 

James narrowed his eyes. “You know, Teresa Lisbon probably felt that way at one time or another. Until Jane brainwashed her.” 

She gritted her teeth at his statement. She was sick of people comparing her and Teresa Lisbon. Their only commonality was that they were both First Mate of the Scarlet Oasis. She was nothing like Teresa Lisbon, which in her mind, was the best thing about her. If she ever resembled that wench in anyway, she’d slit her own throat. Death would be better than ever being like that moron.

“Teresa Lisbon is not me and I am not her,” she spat at him. “Stop comparing us. We are not the same! She got herself kidnapped! She purposely tried to have me killed on several occasions. I kill with purpose and not for pleasure!” She felt the blood rise up in her cheeks as she yelled at him. “I do not bow to the will of Patrick Jane. I fight him on every stance he has and then some. I’m sick of this comparison. I’m better than that fucking whore! I am not a second rate pirate! She wouldn’t know how to instill fear if it bit her in the ass!”

“And you do?” His lips pulled into a small smirk, but before he could say anything, she had his right wrist in her hand and she ducked beneath a branch only to snap his wrist back against the branch. Kris heard him make a slight noise, before she stepped back into his line of vision only to see a waterfall of blood from his bottom lip. She said nothing, watching the blood drip from his chin, down his neck and onto the collar of his shirt. It was then, she chose to smirk. 

“Have I made my point clear or would you and Carter like to have matching injuries?”

James nodded slowly, his eyes widening as he continued to bleed. Kris opened her mouth to add insult to injury, when suddenly, she heard the door behind them being slammed shut. Both of them glanced toward the sound, only to find Mashburn storming from the manor. 

“Mashburn?” Kris asked, only for the brunette financier to ignore her and continue toward the Scarlet Oasis, walking briskly. She sighed. What in the hell had gone on inside? More importantly, what had Jane done to piss off Walter Mashburn? Instead of wasting her energy on James, she turned on her heels and chased after Mashburn. “Hey! What’s…?” 

Mid-step, Mashburn turned on her. His eyes wet, as though he’d been crying. “You really need to stop being a selfish brat, Kristina.”

“Excuse me?” She bristled in anger, though she knew she had done nothing to cause his outburst. 

“I...I’m sorry, Kristina. Patrick’s...to say he’s impossible is an understatement.” Kris almost scoffed at the statement; considering this wasn’t news to her. His apology made her relax her shoulders; she realized that this wasn’t really about her. It was about what Jane had done without her present. Whatever it was - it had truly affected Mashburn. The man never showed any emotion except his sexual desires. 

Instead of blowing up at Mashburn, as she had just done to Bertram, she exhaled and nodded at him. “Alright Walter, what’s going on? What did he do?” 

“He’s been putting off finding Teresa for months now. Every excuse to talk to one official after another, claiming it’s in the pursuit of finding his First Mate.” She watched as Mashburn attempted to control the shaking in his hands. He had been wringing them since he had stopped to talk to her. 

“We made no progress in that room, Kristina,” Mashburn continued on. “All that was done was more fighting about that ridiculous six month timeline.” Kris could only nod in understanding. She had learned about this six month timeline soon after she had come aboard the ship. The rule was to prevent the loss of resources and money. According to Jane, the logic of this rule went that if you are any decent kind of pirate - you should be able to find a missing crew member in six months. Any longer, you are risking the starvation and well-being of your crew. Jane almost made it seem as though he were speaking from experience, but with Jane you never knew what was the truth and what was fiction. 

She had never given the rule much thought up until Mashburn mentioned it. To her, it seemed reasonable enough. Pirate crews had to continue to make a living and, if she were honest, a search and rescue mission cost all of them a portion of their wages. It was never spoken, but it was expected, from Officers, that they contributed to the search and rescue fund. It was never a lot - five pence here, another there. However, it was enough to start making you count your stash on a daily basis. In short, the crew and it’s Officers could go broke if they weren’t careful. 

“Walter,” she spoke softly, as if to a crying child, “I can’t speak for the finances of the ship, but are we in the red?” 

“Pirates never have an overflow of cash, Kristina.” She swore that she almost saw a hint of a smile when he made that retort to her. She knew then, that he would calm down soon. 

“Do we have the money to continue with this mission?” She wanted to be as gentle as possible, but sometimes you needed to ask the tough questions. Mashburn was the keeper of the books; he knew what they could and could not afford. Mashburn was upset about Lisbon, but he spoke in numbers. If the numbers didn’t add up, she could manipulate him into seeing it her way. 

“Kristina,” he paused for a moment, looking down at his shoes, “if it were up to me, we wouldn’t even be here. This operation would not be as delayed as it is right now. You know who is killing our resources, Kristina.” Kris could only reply with a nod; Jane had always been a big spender. Truth be told, if he would stop drinking so excessively the Scarlet Oasis would have a lot more money than they do. 

“If we can’t afford this mission, Walter, we need to shift the money back to the main focus - finding Red John.” She took a deep breath and dared to speak again. “I know we have isolated money just for Lisbon’s rescue and it’s running out. We need to take what we have left and put it towards Red John.” She looked at him and he only blinked as he listened to her explain. “It’s practically the same thing. Lisbon’s on that ship either way. We need to stop treating this as two separate entities.” 

Mashburn nodded in response to her. “I think I have some work to do in that regard, but,” he paused to run a hand through his hair, “before I can even consider shifting money around - I need to know where we are going with that money. Someone has to give me, Cho, or Jane a destination.” He let out a breath of exasperation. “Because as far as I’m concerned Governor Stiles is worthless at this point. He never tells us anything we need to know.” 

“Someone? Meaning Bertram?” 

“Preferably,” Mashburn responded. “He was brought onto this ship for that exact reason. How about he does what he came here to fucking do?” 

“I’m not arguing with you, Walter.” She threw up her hands in surrender. She wanted Mashburn to be comforted by the idea that she was agreeing with him. In fact, he was the only one making any sense on this goddamned ship anymore. 

She looked Mashburn over and then made her decision. “Walter, go back to the ship. I’ll bring Bertram to you. We’ll all have a conversation. What do you think?” 

“What have I got to lose?” 

“I hope nothing, but your temper, Walter,” she responded, only to smile at him and gesture that he could go back to the Scarlet Oasis. In the meantime, she needed to find the kind they called Bertram. Again. 

::::

Stepping out from the vacant kitchen, Rigsby couldn’t help but grin at the sandwich in his hand. He hadn’t been able to finish the fresh vegetable stew that Stiles had provided them with, thanks to the childish meltdown that Mashburn had. Not that Rigsby probably would have eaten it anyway, as Bertram’s unwanted presence had soured his appetite.

But now - he had all the time in the world to enjoy a simple sandwich. 

Or, a few minutes anyway. Cho was expecting him, so that the both of them could discuss strategy and he could rant about the moron on the ship. While Cho probably didn’t care about the subject of James Bertram either way, Rigsby did; and he’d found complaining to Kris did nothing, aside from force the temporary First Mate to draw her sword in warning. 

“Enjoying your lunch, Wayne?” Rigsby paused, midbite of his sandwich, to glance upwards in frustration. First Bertram and then Jane? Would nobody allow him to eat in peace! He turned to face the Captain of the Scarlet Oasis, who seemed quite pleased with himself. Jane glanced down at his sandwich, before he made a face. “It’s green. Is Walter not buying the fresh supply?”

“We’ve been on the open sea for months, Jane, food does spoil.” Well, for the crew and the officers -- food spoiled. He’d never seen Jane in the kitchen, so he figured the Captain had a stash of food for himself. Rigsby glanced at Jane in semi-confusion. If the Captain wasn’t down for a snack, then what  _ was  _ he doing near the kitchens? He had no business down there, considering all of his alcohol was stashed in his quarters. Jane had never understood the concept of eating a meal before downing a whole bottle of high shelf booze. “What brings you down here, Jane? I know you didn’t find me, just to criticise my food choice.” 

In his Captain’s best, Jane chuckled. “I was simply curious about how you are handling this entire Bertram situation.” The Captain leaned against the wall as if he were enthralled in whatever you had to say. He gave Rigsby a pained grin and continued, “Quite the pickle; considering he hauled off and punched me in the face.” 

Rigsby glanced to Jane, his appetite suddenly gone. “Why do you care?” The Captain had never shown such an interest in his feelings before. Any time a situation seemed to have an emotional effect on Rigsby, Jane was the first one to brush it off and tell him to move on. The sudden interest in his feelings perplexed him. Had Jane asked Kris her feelings as well? He tried to imagine  _ that _ conversation, but all he could see was Kris trying to cut Jane’s face off. This image both amused and frightened him, because while Jane was intolerable; without Jane, where would he and Cho have ended up? The answer was obvious, but Rigsby chose not to think about his certain death so early in the afternoon. “I thought we didn’t discuss personal situations around here?” 

Jane made a sound that Rigsby took as a laugh, but he couldn’t be sure. “Rigsby, how many times has our dearest First Mate broken  _ that _ rule?” It was an appropriate question to be sure; Rigsby shifted on his feet just to avoid answering the Captain immediately. There were several times during the course of their journey that the First Mate’s feelings had become priority; even if they were dismissed immediately after being considered. Everyone knew that Bertram’s real reason for hanging around this long was because he had a thing for the woman. Even though Kris had been fending him off for the most part, which assured Rigsby that Kris saw Bertram for who or what he truly was. “I ask, because I want to make sure you’re okay.” 

Jane’s answer surprised him. Nobody, in the seven years of his presence on the Scarlet Oasis, had ever asked him if he was okay. Between chasing Red John, babysitting Jane, assisting Lisbon, and consoling Kris through her personal drama; no one asked him if he was handling all of that well. He became the sounding board for all of his close friends, but did they ever do the same for him? Kris tried to be a listening ear, but she was so busy that she always needed to put off their impending chats till later. Then, there was the fact that Bertram was monopolizing all of her time. Whenever he thought she might have a spare moment, there the pest was - right next to her. He really was the biggest leech on the Scarlet Oasis. 

Then, there was Cho. Cho had always been the one to fall back on when he was finding life on the ship difficult, but he suspected that won’t be an option much longer. Finding Red John would always take priority over anything he was, personally, going through. 

“What do you expect me to say, Captain?” Rigsby questioned. “Being ignored has become a part of my job description.” He frowned at the truth of his statement, but since he had Jane’s ear, why not just let him have it? Not like this opportunity came around often enough, or ever really. “But since you’ve asked, where would you like me to begin?”

“Preferably,” Jane demanded and Rigsby swallowed, feeling rather uncomfortable. Was Jane going to kill him for his decision to be bold? “the beginning, Rigsby. All good stories have one.”

Rigsby took a deep breath, before he placed his sandwich down on one of the rum barrels in the room. “I know you’ve given him passage on our ship, merely with the intention of helping us find Red John, but Jane, James Bertram is…” He paused to find his words. Of course, Bertram was annoying. He was also frustrating and a complete waste of time. After a moment of pause, Rigsby finished his thought. “Quite frankly, Captain, Bertram’s incompetent and truthfully, I don’t have time for him or it.” While they all nearly killed themselves, trying to find leads into both Lisbon’s kidnapping and the location of the Red Rum, Bertram did nothing but sit back and watch. Regardless of the explosion and the accompanying injury, Rigsby thought that  _ surely  _ it wouldn’t affect the idiot’s ability to do simple things -- like swab the deck or tidy the quarters-- but it had. James Bertram was more helpless and useless than the carcass of a rat, which had stowed away on the ship. 

“Well, what else has he done?” Jane asked. “It can’t be all bad.”

Rigsby couldn’t help his laughter. How had Jane not noticed? It wasn’t like Bertram was hiding in the shadows. “Have you watched him follow Kris around? It’s absolutely pathetic.” Rigsby shook his head, as Jane started to open his mouth. “And before you say anything, Jane, nobody needs  _ this  _ much training to become a deckhand.” 

“Fair point,” Jane agreed. “However, have you considered that, maybe, they are becoming friends?” Rigsby almost gagged.  _ Friends _ ? There was no way in hell. Kris had openly, and loudly, disparaged the thought of she and James becoming friends. She claimed that she would rather slit her own throat than entertain the possibility. However, the more Rigsby thought about it, the more he wondered if James was attempting to force a friendship; especially if it could be for nefarious purposes. Kris had mentioned, in an Officer Meeting, that Bertram could be working with Red John to betray them all. Suddenly, Rigsby became anxious for his First Mate and friend. If James was working with Red John, then getting close to Kris would be a way to get inside information about the crew. Kris knew the ship and crewmen inside and out. Whatever they were attempting to achieve with Lisbon’s kidnapping could still be in play, but without anyone to give Red John updates on their whereabouts - a surprise attack by the Scarlet Oasis was much more likely. That attack would cause the Red Rum to, potentially, fall out of power, which Red John would never allow.

“Captain,” Rigsby replied in alarm. “What if Bertram does us like O’Laughlin did?” Jane blinked at Rigsby in astonishment, but Jane was never one to let a good scandal slip on by. “I know Kris is nothing like…” 

“I thought he was an invalid and unable to function aboard the deck?” Jane asked - seeming to not believe Rigsby, which frustrated him to no end. The one time Rigsby might actually be saving the lives of his friends, the Captain is choosing to be stubborn. Then again, no one had listened to Rigsby when he said something was not right with O’Laughlin. He had gone to Lisbon, Cho, and Jane multiple times about his suspicions, but they had all brushed him off, claiming paranoia. It wasn’t until months later, after O’Laughlin had cozied up to Lisbon, that he decided to shoot her in the shoulder, escaping by the skin of his teeth, and sailed back to Red John to let him know everything he had found. Rigsby wasn’t about to allow James Bertram to do the same to Kris, but Kris had to see through it, right? She was the one who had mentioned the connection in the first place; Lisbon hadn’t done that about O’Laughlin. However, was that something Kris truly believed or had she been spouting nonsense because she had been so angry? 

“We said the same thing about O’Laughlin,” Rigsby began with a bite in his voice, “and look where it landed Lisbon.” The more he talked about this time in Scarlet Oasis history, the more angry he became; as that situation had, clearly, been preventable. It may not have saved Lisbon from being kidnapped, but it would have taken longer to get to the inevitable point they’re at now. “In fact,” Rigsby continued, “I believe I said the same thing back then and everyone looked at me as if I had gone off the deep end.” He wanted to be sure he let Jane know that he was resentful about how no one had believed him. The only time anyone had believed him was Kris when he had told her the story. She had told him that O’Laughlin was clearly spying; considering the behavior patterns he had pointed out to her. 

“And I would like to remind you, Rigsby, you and my Sailing Master failed to apprehend O’Laughlin on Howl Island. If you had…”

“If you had just listened to me then!” Rigsby interrupted, his temper rising. “I warned you, Jane! I warned all of you that O’Laughlin was up to no good and what did you do? You had me thrown into the brig overnight.” Rigsby began to pace back and forth; it was in an effort to calm himself down, but he just couldn’t. He had been tossed onto the sidelines for so long that him finally having someone listening was therapeutic; even if that person was offended. Not that Rigsby cared that Jane was offended; he had been at as much fault as Lisbon had back then. He took a deep breath and continued in a calmer voice. 

“Captain,” he started just so Jane wouldn’t punch him into next week or vice versa, “you say you care for this crew and its well-being. I don’t think you want another situation like O’Laughlin again.” He stared Jane down; he did not want to seem as if he was frightened by Jane’s temper, which was comical at this point. Although Jane wanted his crewmen to act as if they feared him. “All I am saying, Captain, is that Kris might have been onto something when we allowed Bertram onto this crew.” He paused. “Just...Captain,” he pleaded, “I really don’t have the stomach to lose another friend to this bastard.” 

“You won’t, Wayne,” Jane replied, softly and for the first time since the early days, Jane almost looked...human. Weary, worn down and broken. Rigsby would never say it, but the Captain seemed guilty as well. Did he lie awake at night and blame himself for Lisbon’s disappearance too? Did he, after the months and months of torturing himself and Cho for the innocent mistake, realize everyone - including himself - was to blame? Wisely, Rigsby kept his mouth shut. “How would you have liked us to handle O’Laughlin then; if we had listened to your suspicions?” 

Rigsby glanced at him. What would he have liked them to have done? Lisbon had pushed him aside, blinded by her adoration for O’Laughlin. Cho had shrugged him off and Jane? He had laughed in his face. So, logically, the only thing he could have done differently was gather more intel and push O’Laughlin to his point of anger. Clearing his throat, Rigsby told Jane as much, which had the Captain nodding. 

“I should have listened to you then,” Jane answered and Rigsby’s mouth almost dropped. In all of his years working for the blonde, he’d never heard an almost apology. “I do believe Bertram is up-to-no-good, but between you and I, I can’t convince Kris of this.” Rigsby grimaced. Bertram had already started brainwashing her to his cause, which meant she needed help. “You know how she is, Wayne. She won’t listen without proof and well, I think we should do what you suggested.”

Rigsby blinked. “You want me to gather intel and piss Bertram off?” Gathering intel would be easy, as the Bertram’s weren’t as private as they thought themselves to be. If Bertram Junior worked for Red John, everybody and their son would know it. 

Pissing Bertram off, on the other hand, would be more difficult. It seemed that every insult Rigsby threw at the bastard just rolled right off him. He’d insulted the man’s manhood, his family and the fact Kris had left him - but nothing seemed to affect him.

“I do indeed.”

“How?”

Jane’s lips curled into a smile. “I know gathering intel will be quite easy. However, getting under Bertram’s skin might prove to be the most difficult challenge to date.” Rigsby nodded in agreement. “I cannot encourage any mistreatment, Wayne, but I certainly won’t discourage any either. You, as far as I’m concerned, have full reign when it comes to James Bertram.”

Rigsby couldn’t help but return Jane’s smile.

He would prove Bertram to be just as bad as they all knew he was; and it was going to be so much fun. 

::::

Kris was in no rush to actually find Bertram, but for Walter she quickened her pace if ever so slightly. She was well aware that Bertram would never be caught back inside the manor, so she made her way around the manor’s grounds. 

It was about an hour before she stumbled upon Bertram. She found him sitting in a dirt clearing, holding a portion of his shirt to his bottom lip; she figured he must have torn it off to stem the bleeding. Kris said nothing to him immediately, as she revelled in how the mighty had fallen. How many times, over the past four years, had she wished for him to hurt as he had once hurt her? She doubted that a split lip and a broken wrist would be enough, but it was a start.

“Didn’t your father teach you to take injuries like a man?” She chuckled. “I doubt he’d be too happy if he found you here sulking.” Bertram glanced up at her, his expression blank and she sighed. Did he have to be so dramatic about everything? “We both know you’ve dealt with worse too.” 

Her eyes shifted, momentarily, from Bertram to her surroundings. They were in a poor excuse for a graveyard and a chill went up her spine. Hanging around with the dead was never a good omen. She then followed Bertram’s gaze and saw him staring at a small cross in the ground; she scoffed. 

“Mourning him?” He gave her only a nod and continued to stare at the cross. Kris had never been a religious person; in fact, her overly religious father’s ridiculous rituals had made her swear off the myth of God altogether. When you were dead - that was it. “When did you become a religious person?” There had been few times in her life where she remembered Bertram being devout. She once asked him about whether he believed in a higher power and he had only shrugged at her. 

“I’m not,” he replied calmly and with a shrug. 

“Then…” She motioned at the cross before them, hoping he understood the question hanging on her lips.

“If there is no God, First Mate Saffron, then death is a lonely ending,” he looked at her and continued on. “I doubt anyone was with him in his final moments. So, here I am; showing that he still has a friend.”

“He betrayed those who would have been kind to him.” She glared at the burial site. Craig O’Laughlin did not deserve to be mourned. He deserved to be forgotten. He had been the whole reason the crew was on this journey in the first place. Teresa Lisbon may not have had the skills to prevent her kidnapping, but Craig O’Laughlin certainly had the mental fortitude not to be sucked into Red John’s inane philosophies. “He had the potential to do a lot of good, but threw it away for power that would never be given to him.” She rolled her eyes. “Mourning someone who chose their own fate isn’t worth your time. He was an idiot, a coward, and the reason you were forced upon the ship. If not for your ‘friend,’ you’d still be back on your island and not giving a damn.” With that, she could only smirk.

James glanced at her, shrugging again. “I only give a damn about those, who are worth giving a damn about.”

“That person is not Craig O’Laughlin.” She blew the hair out of her face and stared at him. “Enough of mourning the cowards, we need to get back to the ship.” 

“I’m not mourning a coward, First Mate Saffron, I’m mourning a man who lost himself years ago.” 

She could only groan at the remark. “Bertram, those who bend the knee to evil is no one to mourn nor to be pitied. They sealed their fate when they put their trust into a murderer.” 

“Then what is your Captain? An angel? A pirate with mercy?” He scoffed. “Evil doesn’t always wear black robes and have a sinister smile, First Mate Saffron, it comes in many forms. Sometimes, evil has a charming personality and a dark sense of humor.” 

“What does that say about me then?” Kris asked him, rolling her eyes. She knew exactly what it said about him. 

She watched as Bertram rose to his feet; wincing slightly as he realized he had put his weight on a broken wrist. “I don’t believe it says anything about you, First Mate. I believe you see the evil in your Captain as I do. You are many things, but your intuition has never failed you.” He gripped at his broken wrist. “Knowing that, my only question is, why are you aboard the ship in the first place?”

Kris shifted on her feet and looked down. There were many reasons she had joined the Scarlet Oasis. Most of them were out of fear for her own safety. When she had come across Teresa Lisbon, years ago, she sensed something had been off with her, and even with Jane. However, it was a roof, when it wasn’t leaking, over her head and some food in her stomach. Anything had been better than sleeping in the roads of Jubilee Island; there weren’t many who escaped the island’s unseen clutches of drinking, drugs, and endless parties. As much as it had been fun, for a time, she never wanted it to be her permanent fate. 

She looked up, and for the first time, she looked Bertram in the eyes. “I owe the ship my life. If not for them, I’d be dead.” She looked away and decided to adjust a strap on her boot, even though nothing was wrong with it. She shook her head and cleared her throat. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get back to the ship and speak with Mashburn.” 

Bertram glanced at her for a moment, before he nodded and used his good hand to brush the dirt from his trousers. “As you wish, First Mate Saffron.” She gritted her teeth. Smug bastard. If she knew she could get away with it, she would have broken the other wrist too. “However, I hope you aren’t offended if I walk behind you. I am, after all, afraid you might gut me.” 

“And have Jane lecture me until my dying day?” She looked back at him. “No, thank you. That might be a fate worse than death itself.” Bertram didn’t move immediately and Kris stared at him. “What are you waiting for?” 

“For you to ask nicely.” 

Kris scoffed. “You’ll be waiting until Hell freezes over, you son of a bitch.”

“That’s all you had to say, First Mate Saffron.” He gave her a smile and she swore she saw him chuckling to himself. “No need to be crass. We are in a graveyard, in case you’ve forgotten.” 

“How would you like to join them?” Her hand went for her sword, but the smile he gave her made her slowly realize that he might be teasing her. He had always enjoyed getting her temper flaring.

“Only if you promise to visit and call me crude names, that would make your mother blush.” 

“Nothing my mother probably hasn’t heard before, thanks to the Lord Almighty,” Kris responded with a quiet chuckle. “Now come on. We don’t have all day.” She watched Bertram nod his head, before she turned on her heels. 

The journey from Cannibal Cove to the shores where the ship docked wasn’t pleasant. Cannibal Cove was notorious for shrubbery, dense forests, and unknown plant life. When she had first ventured onto Cannibal Cove, she had been warned about the dangers on the island. The poisonous plants and animals, the many traps the locals laid out in order to catch their prey. Jane had made it seem like something out of a horror novel. It hadn’t helped that Cannibal Cove was the centerpiece of many stories parents used to scare their children into behaving properly. Beyond the giant eight-legged creatures, who only lived to haunt the dreams of impressionable children, Kris felt continuously on edge. However, she couldn’t let Bertram notice her edge. Instead, she stayed a few paces ahead of him and used her sword to cut down the shrubbery that stood in their path. 

It was almost dusk by the time they reached the ship. She was drenched in sweat and hungry enough to eat a whole venison, but instead she dragged her feet and Bertram to Mashburn’s quarter door and knocked impatiently. 

“Walter!” She yelled and continued to bang on the door. She knew Mashburn had chairs inside and she was eager to sit down. Finally, with an obnoxious grin, Mashburn opened the door for them. 

“Well, don’t you two smell like daisies,” he remarked, still grinning. “Have you been having a tumble in the hay?” 

Kris felt the bile rise and burn in her throat. Normally, she wouldn’t have physically reacted to Mashburn’s crude commentary, but the implication that she and Bertram were having sex made her want to get sick. It was either that or the heat exhaustion was getting the best of her. Either way, the comment didn’t settle her stomach. 

“And risk getting pricked by a poisonous plant, Walter?” She almost felt the urge to slap that grin off his face, but instead she chose to push past Walter and sit down.

“I’m sure if you got pricked by a plant, Kristina,” he said, grin and all, “Bertram here would have kissed you to good health.”

She blinked at Mashburn. For a moment, she couldn’t even think of a response, but the words formed and she decided to spit back. “Are you implying I am Sleeping Beauty and need a man to rescue me? You really know how to insult a girl, Walter.”

Mashburn continued to grin at her, before he turned to stare Bertram. “Well, aren’t you a sight? Kristina truly did a number on you, didn’t she?” At least the innuendos told her Mashburn was going to be alright, compared to his earlier state of mind. She tried not to pay much attention to him, as he continued on. “Didn’t know you were into bloodplay, Kristina. Kinky girl.”

“I will gut you, Walter, and make it look like an accident,” Kris said with a scowl, as she remained seated. “I’m not in the mood for games.” 

Bertram, from behind her, spoke up finally. “I opened my mouth where it wasn’t warranted.” Mashburn glanced up at Bertram, a thoughtful smile on his face. 

“She bested you, did she?” Kris assumed Bertram nodded, as Mashburn chuckled. “Kristina’s got quite a spirit, doesn’t she?”

“And Kristina is still here, you idiot,” she told him, rolling her eyes. “You wanted Bertram, I brought you Bertram. Now, he’s your problem.” 

“As well as your problem, Jane’s problem, and the whole crew’s,” he chided at her. “Today it is just my turn.” She watched his eyes flicker to Bertram and his grin returned, before his eyes glanced downwards. “Is something wrong with your wrist, James?” 

She turned her head slightly to glance at Bertram over her shoulder, who shrugged. “It’s just as I last left it.” Kris heard Mashburn sigh, which forced her to glance back at him. A frown tugged at the corner of his lips and she rolled her eyes at him. He had absolutely no damned right to judge her for how she handled disrespect, considering they’d all been a witness to Jane’s constant mistreatment of Lisbon for her vagrant attitude. As white knight as Mashburn attempted to be, Kris knew he was nobody’s hero. “I tripped leaving the Governor’s manor. I’m a klutz.” Mashburn glanced down at her and she shrugged, before he turned to rummage in a decorative cabinet kept behind his desk. 

“You know we don’t have all day, right?” Kris asked Mashburn, who didn’t seem to be concerned with the thought that Jane could return at any moment. “Between the bloodworks and the tantrums, Stiles is probably threatening to write Red John himself.” 

Bertram cleared his throat. “Governor Stiles won’t involve the Good Captain.” Kris jerked her head to glance at him. “Governor Stiles tends to keep all matters in-house, and none of us have personally done anything to offend him.” 

“You stained his rug with blood, Bertram,” Kris reminded him with a scowl. 

“You also told the man to, as I remember it, to go fuck himself.” She had, but then again, she hadn’t been wrong. “Where’s the statute of limitations toward telling powerful figureheads to go fuck off, First Mate Saffron?” 

Kris glanced upwards. “I believe I’ve also told you to go fuck off a few times too, Bertram. Where’s the statute of limitations toward telling worthless fuckboys to go fuck off?” She watched him turn his head and she smirked, as Mashburn turned to face them both with a bottle of whiskey in his hands. “Are we celebrating something, Walter?” 

“You know we’re not,” Mashburn replied with a small smile, before he opened the bottle and extended it to Bertram. “Drink, my boy. We’re going to need to re-break your wrist.” Without even glancing at him, Kris knew Bertram wasn’t for Mashburn’s plan. “James, you are right handed. You carry a sword with your right hand. If your wrist remains at a weird angle, how do you expect to fight…?”

“He doesn’t,” Kris interrupted, coolly and without glancing back at Bertram. “He has every intention of leaving, as it’s what he does best.” She watched Mashburn frown again and Kris ignored him. She wasn’t about to readdress her turbulent history with James Bertram in front of someone, who had just wailed on him hours ago. “Look, it’s probably of no consequence to you -- but between you and Jane’s pointless ventures, we’re running out of money.” She turned to stare at Bertram. “You want to make good on your promise to help us? Give us something we can run with. I know you’re not as dense as you look.” 

“So much for decorum,” she heard Mashburn mutter. 

She watched Bertram bite on his tender, bottom lip again with a slight wince. “First Mate Saffron…”

“Go ahead and tell us that you can’t give us any more locations, because Daddy hasn’t cleared you yet,” Kris interrupted him, her temper flaring again. She watched him frown, before she crossed her arms against her chest and kicked her feet up to rest atop Mashburn’s cluttered desk. “Look, I don’t care what happens to Teresa Lisbon; because quite frankly, she chose this for herself.” From the corner of her eye, she watched as Mashburn opened his mouth and she held up one of her hands to stop him. “Nine years with Patrick Jane, Walter. She had plenty of time to escape the years of ritualistic abuse and paranoia from a man who cared more about a philosophy than an actual person. If it had been me…”

“If it had been you,” Bertram replied, his voice harsh. “You don’t know what you would have done. Comparing David Saffron and Patrick Jane is like comparing apples to oranges.” The analogy makes her angry. He’d once tried to use it on her, years ago and she had slugged him for it. Comparing their fathers hadn’t been a smart move on his part. In response to his callous answer, she turned to glance at him before she grabbed his wrist and re-snapped it. 

To Bertram’s credit, he didn’t make a sound. 

“Hasn’t there been enough violence today?” Mashburn asked, almost as if he were whining. Kris merely leaned forward and plucked the whiskey bottle from him, before she downed the bitter liquid and slammed the bottle on his desk. “And now, I’m down a bottle of whiskey. Today just keeps getting better.” She heard him sigh, before he sat down behind his desk. “James, regardless of Kristina’s feelings on you or your father, she’s not wrong. We’ve managed on pure dumb luck, so far; but luck does not pay for food, or medical supplies, or wages for the Scarlet Oasis crewmembers.” 

“So basically, what he’s saying is…”

Mashburn didn’t let her finish. “...if we don’t get a location to the Red Rum within the next few weeks, we will be sitting ducks.” He laced his fingers together and looked at Bertram, almost pleadingly. Something, which Kris thought was ridiculous. Cowards didn’t deserve second-chances, let alone pity parties for being no good, rotten bastards. “No reserves. No weapons. No finding Teresa Lisbon. We’ll all die at the hands of Davy Jones. No need to worry about your father, Kris’s or Red John.” 

Bertram said nothing for a few moments and Kris scoffed, loudly. “I told you, Walter. He’s completely…”

“If we can guarantee two more weeks on this island, without interruption or interference,” Bertram replied. “I can get us the answer we need.” 

Kris could only gape. Did he think he was fooling anyone? Mourning Craig O’Laughlin and now, suddenly having the change of heart to actually help them? Her bullshit meter was off the charts. 

Mashburn clapped his hands together, a large smile gracing his lips. “I believe I can pull a few strings.” Kris let out a string of curse words, which probably had both men glancing toward her. 

“Walter, you’re an idiot,” Kris told him, as she shook her head. “A well-meaning and well-intentioned  _ idiot _ . I’ve told you from day  _ one  _ that the Bertram family only cares about their own asses. He doesn’t care what happens to us. Or to Teresa Lisbon.” She stopped to run her fingers through her hair, tugging at the ends to straighten them out. “He’ll get us a location, only to betray us.” 

“Kristina,” Mashburn admonished her, before he turned to glance at Bertram. “Thank you, James. I truly appreciate it.” His smile grew slightly. “And I know Teresa would thank you herself, if she could.” 

Finally having enough of the stupidity surrounding her, Kris stood and threw her hands into the air. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Walter. After all, Teresa Lisbon can’t thank us if  _ she  _ or  _ we’re  _ dead. Just think about that, alright?” Before he could say anything, she turned on her heels and pushed past Bertram. 

She slammed the door shut behind her, shaking. 

So much for moving on. 


	10. Chapter 10

Judging from the way Bertram ran his fingers through his unkempt hair, Kris knew the man was just as confused by Jane’s summons as she was. Mashburn had approached her, long before the sun was up, with the unfortunate news that Jane needed her. 

Of course, Mashburn had neglected to mention Jane had needed Bertram as well. Something she had found out, right as she had stepped through the doorway into the Captain’s quarters. 

Wisely, Bertram kept quiet as he stifled a yawn and shifted from one foot to another. Kris tried to not shoot him a glare at his unprofessionalism, but her expression must have said something as he immediately stopped. 

“Didn’t sleep last night, huh?” Between the bloodshot eyes and the dark circles beneath his eyes, she could imagine the brunette felt like hell. She knew that Bertram hadn’t joined the rest of the crew drinking, therefore, the only reasonable explanation for his poor appearance was that he hadn’t slept the night before. She had no idea what could be keeping him up at night; he didn’t have a crew to maintain and duties to be done before dawn struck. She tried to be kind and allowed the crew to sleep till daybreak, but not much longer after that. Jane always insisted the crew be up when she was, but considering Jane slept till mid-day - she promptly ignored his suggestion. There was no need for the rest of them to be up with her; it was the only time she experienced peace and quiet. Considering Jane had called this meeting before his own wake-up call - she anticipated nothing good to come from this meeting. 

“Do I look that bad?” 

She didn’t get a chance to respond, before Jane’s voice rang out. “Your personality matches your appearance today, Bertram.” Kris groaned at the remark; it was far too early for the two to get into a pissing match. Then again, Jane never could shut his mouth at the appropriate times. “Thank you both for joining me this morning.” She heard his footsteps behind her, until he sat behind his desk. 

“Like we had a choice,” Kris responded dryly. “Why don’t we get straight to the reason you brought us both in here, Jane? Save us some time.” She wasn’t about to sit in this office for hours and listen to him drone on about his strategy for Red John. Or how Lisbon was still missing and the crew wasn’t doing enough to help find her. She and Jane had that conversation about once a week and it always ended the same - both angry and annoyed. Now, with Bertram involved in the meeting - she did not want to imagine how this would go. She suspected there might be bloodshed; maybe Jane was right, Bertram’s appearance did match the day. 

Jane crossed his arms against his chest. “What else do you have to be doing right now?” 

“Your job,” Kris retorted. “So again, why are we here?” Despite what he thought happens on his own ship - standing around talking was not in their job descriptions. He could scold her for being callous at another time, but Jane clearly felt this was important - he should get to the damn point. 

“Very well,” Jane told her, before he turned to Bertram. “I do believe we should let her in on the information you obtained, don’t you, Bertram?” Kris turned her head briefly to glance at Bertram, whose expression remained stoic. She recalled their conversation on Cannibal Cove, where she and Mashburn had explicitly told him that they needed Red John’s location sooner than later. Wordlessly, she watched Jane pull a slip of parchment from his desk. “I’ve finally got the coordinates to the Red Rum.” 

Kris said nothing. Had she not been completely clear to Bertram? Allowing Jane to have the coordinates, before she and Cho could verify them, would possibly lead them to slaughter. She narrowed her eyes on Bertram. She supposed she shouldn’t be too surprised, considering his family’s perchance for betrayal and making promises they couldn’t keep. “How?” 

“I can be rather persuasive, Kris,” Jane answered with a small smile, as he turned his head back to Bertram. “Correct, Bertram?” 

“Yes, Captain,” Bertram responded quietly. 

“Who else on the crew knows?” Kris didn’t glance toward Bertram, as she crossed her arms against her chest in anger. Bertram’s betrayal, again, was expected--but Jane’s decision to covet information had her wanting to remove Jane’s head from his neck. She’d known he wasn’t going to tell her everything, but she still expected them to be on the same page regarding Red John and the Red Rum. If anyone else on the crew knew before her, she’d kill Jane. 

“Only myself, Bertram and now, you.” 

Kris glanced upwards in frustration. “Then, you’re going to get Mashburn and Cho here immediately.” 

::::

Slamming the door to Jane’s quarters behind her, Kris crossed her arms against her chest and tried to keep from clenching her teeth. Not only was it freezing, the skies overhead showing signs of possible precipitation but Jane had also insulted her intelligence for the third time by questioning her reluctant decision to trust James Bertram’s information. Even though she, Mashburn and Cho had all verified the letter Bertram sent to his mysterious contact - name redacted, he had explained, to keep his source safe. 

Kris had rolled her eyes. As long as his source, probably dearest Daddy himself, provided them accurate information to aid Jane’s suicidal quest, Kris didn’t really care. She just wanted him gone. His presence upon their vessel was causing far more headaches, regardless of how helpful he was apparently determined to be.

For one example, she had asked Rigsby to tie down the mast to keep from damaging the haul further. Bertram had overheard and immediately volunteered. While Rigsby hadn’t seemed too bothered by the offer, Kris had been livid -- because what in the hell did Bertram know about knot tying? Rigsby had offered to supervise, something she had gladly taken him up on it and she had left them for her meeting with Jane. 

Glancing down at the mast, Bertram was still attempting to tie a fucking knot and she’d been busy for almost two hours with Jane. From the looks of it, Rigsby was attempting to tie the knot for Bertram and be done with it - but of course, Bertram was refusing. 

Squaring her shoulders and huffing, Kris gritted her teeth and stomped her way in-between them both. 

Bertram didn’t acknowledge her, his fingers fumbling as Rigsby glanced upwards at her. 

“Kris?” 

Kris ignored him to glance at Bertram. “Are you really that stupid? You can’t tie a simple knot? God, you seriously are fucking useless!” She waited for him to respond to her, or at the least storm away, but he seemed intent on finishing his task. “Get out of the damned way, Bertram. I’ll do it myself!” Irritated, she shoved him out of her way and finished tying the knot properly without lip from Rigsby. 

“I’m not an idiot, First Mate Saffron. I know how to tie a…”

Kris turned to him, sneering. “All evidence points to the contrary, Bertram. I assigned this task to be completed two hours ago and here you are, still standing around with nothing done.” From next to her, she heard Rigsby snicker and she turned slightly to admonish him when Bertram spoke. 

“Why don’t you just go off and fuck yourself, Wayne?” Kris grimaced and grabbed Bertram by the upper arm, before Rigsby could even attempt to take a swing at him. The ass didn’t mutter a word as she continued to drag him beneath the ship and into the First Mate quarters, where she forced him to take a seat. He glanced up at her, as if she had personally offended him which made her roll her eyes again. 

“You really like to get punched in the face, don’t ya?” 

Bertram blinked. “Do I have to sit here and be berated twice, First Mate?” The heavy amount of sarcasm in his usage of her title made her clench her teeth. Maybe, she should have just let Rigsby beat the shit out of him. 

“You’ll sit here and you’ll take it, because...”

“Correct me if I’m wrong…” 

“You’re always wrong,” she spat at him, smirking.

“...don’t I already get it enough from you?” Bertram asked cooly, ignoring her. “The Captain?” He paused to gesture upwards toward the deck. “Mr. Entitled up there?” 

“You wouldn’t get it from him if you didn’t instigate it. You just have no interest in trying to have a relationship...” 

“You’re one to talk.” 

She flared her nostrils and decided to give him a rude gesture. The only relationship he’d have, if he was lucky enough, was getting himself off with his own right hand. “For your information, I am in a relationship. Have been for almost a year.” She stared him down. “Would you like to continue down that horseshit way of thinking or stop while you’re ahead?”

He stared at her for a moment, before he leaned backwards in his seat. “Where should I send the flowers?” 

“To your own grave after I slit your throat?”

“Give me your knife and I’ll gladly do it myself,” he replied with a faux smile. Kris said nothing and he cleared his throat. “So, tell me about this new beau. Name? Age? Favorite sex move?” 

“A position you could never get into,” she told him, still smirking as he lost his smile completely. “Adam and he’s my age. Are you done?”

“You’re in a relationship with Captain Adam Rourke?” Bertram sounded almost surprised at her choice in partner, which irritated her. Again, what right does he have to judge her? “Rourke, who captains the Siren?” 

“Yes, what other Adam Rourke do you know?”

Bertram shrugged. “I’ve got to say, Saffron, I’m impressed. He’s obviously dating you for…” 

She put her left hand to her cheek and showed off the sizable rock on her finger. “You were saying?” She watched his eyes get large, before she glanced down at her ring. “Beautiful, isn’t it? Better than that piece of shit rock you were offering me.” She watched his cheeks color and it brought tears of laughter to her eyes. “Kristina Jessica Rourke has a ring to it, doesn’t it? Far better than Kristina Jessica Bertram…” 

“I was just trying to tie a knot,” Bertram muttered, his cheeks still tinged pink. Kris grinned at him. It was about time that she flipped the tables on him. 

“Oh yeah?” Kris asked him, staring him down. “Because I plan on actually tying the knot.”

Bertram flinched. The message had been received, loud and clear. “That’s a first.” 

“Considering that I was ditched the first, actual time, it is nice when it’s genuine. That’s rare.” She paused to smile at him. “Of course, you wouldn’t know how to propose unless your father stuck his hand up your ass.” She continued to smile, even as rage consumed her. 

“Again, how is my father pertinent to this conversation? I was just tying a knot!”

“Again, you inserted yourself into an aspect of my personal life,” Kris told him. “Which was never your business in the first place. I was trying to mend a tenuous relationship between you and my right hand - Rigsby. Not delve into a dialogue about whether or not I please my partner in bed. So, given all of that, since you stuck your two cents where it does not belong, I made a comment about your father. Therefore, we are even. To claim that this was a conversation about tying a knot is a bold faced, load of shit.” 

Bertram’s expression shifted ever-so-slightly. “I have no interest in mending whatever relationship Rigsby and I have.”

“You’d have to put in actual effort to have a relationship before you could mend it.” She rolled her eyes. “I don’t expect you two to be best friends, but I’d appreciate it if you attempted to get along. As I am not your mother and you two are not siblings, you need to figure out a way to work together. As I will not insert myself, again, into another one of your childish fights. Figure. It. Out.” Kris watched him cross his arms against his chest and it reminded her of a child, who hadn’t gotten his way.

“I just don’t appreciate him insulting my intelligence every five minutes,” Bertram finally replied, after another moment of silence. Kris rolled her eyes. “And while I understand you’d rather keep your right hand happy, because god forbid, whatever would you do without Wayne fucking Rigsby?; please remember that there are more than three crew members on this vessel.” Kris stared down at Bertram, unamused as she continued to tower over him. She had her faults, but she wasn’t Teresa Lisbon or Patrick Jane. She cared about every, single person on her crew, regardless of his personal opinion. Clearing her throat, she allowed him to have it:

“There are twenty-eight crewmen aboard the Scarlet Oasis. We have sixteen deckhands, one First Mate and Captain, one Financial Advisor, two Officers, and seven powder monkeys,” she started, her voice low. “I know each and every one of their names. I made them give roll call and I wrote them down. I took two weeks into this job to get each name correct. I sat down with each of these men and asked them what they would like to see improved. Since then, I try to have weekly, if not monthly, meetings about the feelings of the crew and their needs, which I never see you attend, for the record. These men knock on my office and chamber door to come to me with their problems. Big or small. I listen to them, regardless of how tired I am. So, to tell me that I am not aware of the rest of my crew is absolute horseshit. These men are my family. More than whatever fucked up version of a family you gave me. I do not turn my back on the people who show me love and loyalty. You did none of those things. Not honestly. It was a lie. You want to be treated like one of the crew? Stop acting like you’re above us. Or that we wouldn’t fall on our own swords to protect each other; because it’s not true. Jane’s image as Captain wrecks a lot of our reputation. Take Jane out of the picture and this is what we are. I love my crew. I love my brothers - Cho and Rigsby. I would die for those two, if they asked. Just because you’ve never understood what it means to have that kind of bond with someone doesn’t make mine any less valid. It makes you a sad human being.” Bertram blinked slowly, before he stood from his seat and she sighed. Bertram obviously couldn’t handle logic. “Leaving again, are you? Please, go right ahead. Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.” 

He stepped closer to her, bridging the gap between them. Kris didn’t step backwards. If he wanted to become the victim of yet another broken appendage, she’d gladly let him be. “What do you want me to say, Kris? Good job? Congratulations? I’m glad you’ve finally gotten the validation you need to be happy.” 

“You don’t need to say a word. You think your words or validation matter to me? They don’t. I made my point and now, this conversation is over. You clearly have no interest in bettering your time aboard this ship and I refuse to babysit. Figure it out with Rigsby. Period. You want to think I’m an ass? Go ahead. Say whatever you want. I stopped caring twenty minutes ago.” She looked up at him. “You can go now.” Kris waved him away, before she moved to sit in her chair. Reclining backwards in the plush material, Kris tossed her booted feet up onto the desk and stared him down for a few, brief moments. It was then, she decided to grab her large, black hat and toss it onto her head. She tugged the rim down over her left eye and listened for Bertram’s departure. 

It never came. 

“The accident I had wasn’t actually an accident,” Bertram started, quietly. Kris didn’t react. “My father purposely tried to have me killed, which isn’t a surprise to either of us.” She still said nothing. “When I awoke, he began to treat me as though I was an invalid. I didn’t stop him. Knowledge, after all, is power.” Kris fought to keep her expression blank. If Bertram and Jane were allies, as she suspected, there was the possibility that they were also working for Red John. Jane, in passing, had mentioned knowledge is power - and although she agreed with him, she didn’t necessarily think that his knowledge would be used for good. “I wasn’t supposed to be at the manor when you arrived. My...Gale planned on shipping me out to the summer home, when low-and-behold, you and the Scarlet Oasis arrived. All I know from there is that I’m supposed to spy on Jane for him.” Bertram offered her a shrug. “You obviously have no reason to believe me, but I honestly don’t care about the underhanded deeds Patrick Jane is doing. I just needed to escape my father, something I know you can understand.” Kris lifted her hat briefly to eye him, her expression still blank. She had never quite liked Bertram Senior, considering his relationship to her own father. The both of them had seemed set on torturing her (and Bertram Junior) to an extent. 

“I do understand that and whatever Jane’s up to is a mystery to me. However, we all know that you were brought here for a bigger purpose than to spy. You’ve already told Mashburn that you have information concerning Red John. That you know people, which is fine, but what you are failing to grasp is that the longer you’re here, the less time you have to choose.” Bertram eyed her and she sighed. “If this isn’t something you want to be a part of, Bertram, then cut the strings. Walk away. You cannot play two sides of the same coin.” 

Bertram looked almost pained. “It’s not that easy.” 

“And that’s where you and I will always differ, James.” She continued to glance at him. “I think it’s an easy choice. Your happiness or...well, this.” Kris paused to move her hand around, gesturing about the quarters. Pirating wasn’t for everyone. 

“My happiness was ruined when I was twenty-years old.” 

She attempted to control her snort. He had ruined the happiness between them. Not his father. Not hers. Not her. Him. “You chose to ruin that. You didn’t have to leave. Whatever he threatened…” she paused to shrug. “I thought we were stronger than that. You clearly had different ideas.” 

“I thought so too, until your father got involved.” 

“I wasn’t afraid, James. You were.” 

“I was afraid for you.” She couldn’t help but grimace at his ideology. She’d been able to take care of herself from a young age and now, with the training Lisbon and Jane had provided her with, she was even more equipped to fend for herself. The biggest problem with James Bertram, aside from his need to desert everything, was the fact that he didn’t trust her to fend for herself. In fact, his need to save her had only caused more destruction upon her. “I know you can handle yourself, however, I couldn’t let them send you to Red John. Or to Kane Island.” The shiver that danced down her spine forced her to cross her arms against her chest. She’d heard of Kane Island from Mashburn, who had told her it was a deplorable place full of degenerates and lowlifes. Red John often did his recruiting on the island, which explained the presence of Craig O’Laughlin on the Red Rum. 

“It was never going to happen,” she explained. Her father had wanted the wicked ways beaten out of her, as Red John would have never tolerated her presence on his vessel. “I was always going to be shipped off to Timothy Carter, and that’s exactly what happened. They lied to you, James.” She watched his expression darken and she waited for his hero speech that came without much reproach. 

“Carter was never what I wanted for you, Kris…” She narrowed her eyes at his casual use of her first name. “I wanted you to find someone else, who was better than me. I had hoped by leaving you, they’d let you…” 

“Let me what?” Kris interrupted. “Be happy? Get away?” She watched his mouth open slightly. “You’re an idiot if you thought Gale and David would ever allow me to be happy. The Saffron family motto is iustus in passione roborasti, which when translated, roughly means: righteous in suffering.” Bertram said nothing as she watched his gaze fall to the ground. “Wake up, Bertram! There are no happy endings here.” 

He glanced up at her briefly. “That wasn’t what I wanted for you. You have to believe…”

“I don’t have to do anything, but survive, you moron.” James opened his mouth and Kris shook her head. “At this point, I trust you less than I trust Jane.” She watched him flinch. The corner of her lips curved upwards. “While Jane’s a handful, I can at least say he’s useful. You? You can’t even tie a knot.” The bright coloring of embarrassment returned to Bertram’s face and she snorted. “You can leave now.” Without another word to him, she turned her attention to one of the documents on her desk. Pulling a spare feather pen from one of the desk drawers, she started to jot her own thoughts down. 

“Okay,” he said after a moment of silence. Kris continued to scratch her pen against the document. “You’re right. I obviously need to learn how to be a pirate.” 

“Or not be a pirate at all,” Kris muttered under her breath, before she addressed him directly. “You, clearly, have no stomach or mental tenacity for the job.” She felt his stare, which only made her shrug. He’d never been able to take her complete honesty without an outburst of his own, a flaw of his that she had just learned to roll her eyes at. Of course, Kris half-expected him to stomp his foot as though he were an overgrown toddler.

“I see that I’m clearly unable to change your opinion of me,” Bertram responded, evenly. Kris didn’t glance up at him. “I’m sorry you hate me; but I never wanted this for you. Regardless of how much you hate me...”

“I don’t hate you, Bertram,” Kris interrupted with a scowl. “I loathe you.” 

She heard him shift slightly. “Regardless of how much you loathe me, I still did what I did to keep you safe. I’d do it again all over, if I had the same choice.” Her boots hit the floor with a thump as she moved her head to stare at him, her temper rising. 

“Good to know that you’d be an idiot regardless of the circumstances in front of you. That makes me feel so much better.” He’d sent her into the arms of Timothy Carter, who had then proceeded to rape and beat her for almost two years. Maybe he didn’t know? She hadn’t heard about his whereabouts or wellbeing since they’d last seen each other, but she had also stopped surrounding herself with anyone that reminded her of him. 

It wasn’t that she worried the thought of him would destroy her, but rather that the anger would consume her and all those she had grown to care about. 

“Kris,” he added. She wondered how he’d look without a head. “I’m sorry for…”

“For fuck sake,” she spat, “would you stop apologizing to me? Also, it’s First Mate Saffron. If you continue to call me by the wrong title, I will cut out your tongue.” To make her point, loud and clear, she bent down to remove the small dagger from the inside of her boot. She thought she heard him loudly swallow, even after she had driven the sharpened blade into the top of her desk. “So, do we understand how this works now? You’re a crewman and I’m your superior. That’s where our relationship begins and ends, got it?”

Bertram nodded, before he replied softly, “I understand.” 

She removed her blade from her desk, before she took her seat again and dismissed him with a wave of her hand. “You may leave now. Unless you can’t figure out how to use the door, of course.” 

Bertram said nothing as he left. 

Waiting until the door closed behind him, Kris slammed her hands against the desk. She’d known something was up from the moment that Jane brought Bertram aboard, especially without any good reason. She knew she should have probably been more pissed with Jane, but her anger lied with James Bertram. It didn’t matter who said what or who had done what, because Bertram could have said no. He could have ignored his father and left. 

Or Jane could have listened to her, when she said that she had no interest in taking him on board.

She’d come to expect the underhanded ways of Patrick Jane, but she had hoped Bertram would have changed. Sighing to herself and cursing him for the upteenth time, Kris moved to grab the bottle of rum in her bottom drawer. 

Sometimes, a drink was the only thing that could cure her issues with Bertram and Jane together. Or at the very least, an entire bottle.


	11. Chapter 11

“No, really! You should have seen it!” Rigsby explained to Mashburn and Cho, through mouthfuls of his sandwich as the three enjoyed an afternoon in the Crew Mess. “Kris took Bertram to task and it was glorious; if the idiot had a tail, I bet it would have been between his legs.” He couldn’t help but laugh as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, nearly showering Cho with crumbs. As usual though, Cho seemed unimpressed with his story and Mashburn looked annoyed. “I wish I had seen that conversation; Kris probably made him piss himself.”

Mashburn paused, as he moved to take a bite from his own sandwich. “Wayne, would you please keep your disgust down? I honestly can’t hear my own pleasant thoughts over the sounds of your unpleasant ones.” Rigsby couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the man’s melodrama. He probably should have expected no sympathy from Mashburn, however, as the men were thick as thieves; which still made no sense to him. The bastard had ruined Kris, but still, Mashburn had decided befriending him was a wonderful idea! Rigsby had tried to point out the flaw in the pirate’s thinking, but the rhinestone-wearing man had yet to listen to reason. “I’d love to get through one meal without us discussing your dislike for James, as he’s a decent guy.”

Rigsby scoffed. “Decent? I’ve met wastrels with far more manners than James Bertram.”

“There are other things to discuss,” Cho said from next to Mashburn. Rigsby paused to roll his eyes once more. Of course, there were always better things to discuss—but Mashburn had started the conversation, by commenting on how worn-down Bertram seemed. Cho had agreed and Rigsby, again, wondered if anyone saw the bastard for what he truly was, aside from Jane? A manipulative, lazy, son-of-a-bitch, who cared for nobody but himself.

Mashburn nodded. “There’s always the topic of scurvy in the high seas.” Rigsby tilted his head to stare at the man, confusion across his features. “No? How about we discuss exchange rates for the doubloon? They’re absolutely outrageous!”

“You’re the only person here to find that interesting,” Cho said, as he moved to take another bite of his own sandwich. “You’re the ship’s financer, not us. Why in the world would we care?” Mashburn shrugged, before he threw Cho a smile.

“It beats discussing Patrick the entire meal.” That, Rigsby could agree with. “I like the man, truly, but I can only take so much before I want to throw myself off the mast.” Rigsby tried not to laugh at Mashburn’s quip. “It’s  _ Red John  _ this and  _ Red John  _ that and don’t stick your hand in there, Walter.”

“To be fair,” Rigsby pointed out. “You  _ were  _ trying to stick your hand in a hornet’s nest.” Mashburn shrugged again and Rigsby shook his head. “Jane told you to investigate the buzzing, not instigate it.” Mashburn grinned again.

“You worry too much, Wayne,” Mashburn replied, still grinning. “I believe that you all sometimes forget that I know the Scarlet Oasis like the back of my hand, I did do the purchasing after-all.”

Cho blinked. “I thought Jane did the purchasing.”

Mashburn threw his head backwards, laughing, as he tossed his sandwich to the side. “Patrick? Purchasing? Are you out of your mind, Kimball? Don’t be so daft.” Mashburn paused to shake his head, still laughing. “Patrick does not have access to my gold. I’d end up eating my own right arm if I gave the man access to any of my accounts, as he’d spend it all on booze and convoluted plans.” He’d probably also spend it on attempting to catch Red John, but the man had seemed less preoccupied with the Good Captain and more with James Bertram as of late. Grimacing again, Rigsby tried to finish his sandwich but Bertram’s presence in his mind ruined his appetite. “Come now, Wayne. I couldn’t have upset you too much by addressing the truth here.”

“It’s not that,” Rigsby assured him. “It’s…”

“Bertram,” Cho finished for him. Rigsby nodded.

Mashburn’s eyes flickered to him. “You can’t be serious. I figured discussing Jane would take your mind off James, Wayne.”

“Well, you figured wrong.” Rigsby moved to cross his arms against his chest. “I’m not like Jane, guys. I don’t get distracted by trivial pursuits.”

“No,” Mashburn agreed. “But you do get distracted by James…” Rigsby gritted his teeth, which silenced Mashburn immediately. “I think I’ve made my point, my good sir. You, for some reason, hate James beyond the typical reasons.” It was obvious he meant Kris. “So as to not spoil my meal in the future weeks to come, what gives?” 

Still crossing his arms against his chest, Rigsby grimaced. “Can’t I just hate him for mistreating Kris?”

“You can hate him for whatever reason you want,” Cho said with a shrug. “However, Kris has made it clear: she doesn’t tolerate vendettas on this crew, as Jane is enough for all of us.” Rigsby moved to flip Cho off. His vendetta against the Bertram family was nobody’s business, aside from his and his family. “Mature.”

“It’s a vendetta?” Mashburn asked.

Rigsby grimaced. “Can we not talk about this?”

Mashburn leaned forward in his seat. “This is my kind of lunchtime entertainment, Wayne. You can’t just leave me, as I’m hanging on the edge of my seat. What did the Bertram’s do to you?” Rigsby continued to grimace, as he moved to stand from the table. Mashburn grabbed onto his arm. “Again, I’m being deprived of drama here. Help a fella out.”

Jerking his arm out of Mashburn’s grasp, Rigsby sat back down, before he glanced at the rhinestone-wearing pirate again. “You asked, years ago, why I joined this crew?” Mashburn nodded. “I believe I told you it had something to do with the adventures I could have on the high seas. However, I lied to you.”

“A pirate that lies.” Mashburn chuckled. “Imagine that.” Rigsby shot Mashburn a dirty glare. “So, if not for the swashbuckling adventure—why did you join the Scarlet Oasis?”

“I joined to keep from living out on the streets,” Rigsby explained. Mashburn tilted his head. “Jane promised me a hefty stipend and a place to live in exchange for my services, and having just lost my home to the Bertram’s summer estate—well, I couldn’t say no, now could I?” He grimaced. He’d loved his home on Governors Island; he’d felt safe in the four walls of his little cottage, up until the Bertram’s had evicted him and Cho. Cho had gone on to join the military, while he instead had scraped by on the streets--until Jane and Lisbon had found him. He’d been eating out of a garbage heap and sleeping in a barrel, when Jane had offered him a “better life” in exchange for the help to find Red John. Smart, he’d taken the job in a heartbeat. 

“I doubt James had much to do about your house,” Mashburn mused. “Sounds like something his father, Gale, would do.” 

“He was right there,” Rigsby answered with a shrug. 

“Maybe because he was forced to be there,” Mashburn took a bite of his lunch. “How was he supposed to know that almost a decade later, he’d meet up with those same people again? It’s sheer coincidence.”

“There’s no such thing as a coincidence,” Rigsby spat.

Mashburn went into a fit of hysterics. “Wait,” he paused “you think that James Bertram conspired to find you here and make your life miserable?” Rigsby only stared and waited for Mashburn to dig himself further into a hole. “Oh Wayne, you are more paranoid than Patrick.”

Rigsby grimaced. His father had made his life a living hell, so why not Bertram? As far as being “paranoid” went, he didn’t think it was necessarily a bad thing to be weary of the newest crew member. Especially when the last man that Mashburn and Cho had, openly, defended had been Craig O’Laughlin. As a result of that, they had made it easier for O’Laughlin to betray them all and, now, he had taken Lisbon onto the Red Rum, which they were no closer to tracking down. So, in his mind, “paranoid” was a great place to be and he would stay that way until someone showed him differently.  _ When _ James Bertram did betray them all, he would be the first one to rub it in their faces and say, “I told you so” right alongside Jane.

Cho glanced to both. “Agree to disagree, Rigsby.” 

Just as Rigsby opened his mouth to respond to Cho’s request, the floor started to creak and the Devil himself - James Bertram - walked into the kitchen. Rigsby did his best to just look down at his plate and ignore the new crew member, or he tried.

“James!” Mashburn’s voice rung in Rigsby’s ears. “My good man! How are you today?” 

“Tired,” Bertram responded, stifling a yawn. Rigsby nearly snorted into his hand. “I thought I’d come down and get a bite to eat.” Mashburn smiled brightly. “Anything good for lunch today?” 

“Cold cuts and blocks of cheese, my friend.” Bertram pumped his fist into the air slightly, before he yawned in turn. Mashburn lost his smile to frown. “Or, take a nap.” 

“If I go to sleep right now, I’ll sleep through the entire day,” Bertram explained. 

“Then ask Kristina to take you off the shift. I am sure she could find someone else to do the job,” Mashburn said. Rigsby moved his hand to his mouth to hide his snicker at Mashburn’s comment. Nobody would change positions with Bertram. He made sure of it. “She has excellent methods of persuasion.” He paused to waggle his eyebrows suggestively and Rigsby almost lost his lunch. The last thing he wanted to do was imagine Kris with anyone, especially not with Bertram. 

Bertram crossed his arms against his chest. “How about we not discuss the First Mate in any promiscuous situations, hm?” Mashburn chuckled. “And on that note, I’m going to find my lunch now.” Rigsby watched closely as Bertram stepped over to the counter, only to retrieve his lunch rations for the day, before he returned to glancing at Cho. Cho had gone back to his own sandwich. 

“You know, we should play darts after this,” Rigsby told Cho. “I’ll snatch the tequila from Kris’s bedroom; she hides it under the floorboard--” Before he could finish how he would steal Kris’s tequila, he heard Bertram gag and almost choke.

Mashburn looked up from his food. “What’s wrong, James? You swallow wrong?” 

Rigsby snorted. “Yeah,  _ Bertram _ . You too stupid to swallow?” Before he could taunt Bertram anymore, he felt spit hit his face. When he went to wipe off his face, he realized that the ants he’d put in Bertram’s food had made their way to his face. “What the fuck, Bertram?! Keep your ants to yourself, asshole.” 

Before he could add anything else, Bertram punched him across the jaw. 

::::

Detailing another report for Mashburn, Kris sighed and tipped her head backwards in frustration and boredom. She would rather be doing anything else than sitting, approving Mashburn’s yearly budget for the ship. In fact this was, technically, Jane’s job; however, the “Captain” was always incapcitated, so the responsibility fell onto her shoulders. 

If she had her way, she would be running along the beach or climbing some cliff; anything else than looking at numbers on parchment - as it was a mind-numbing task. She’d considered drinking some whiskey to take the edge off the boredom. However, if she wasn’t careful with the alcohol, she would “accidentally” suggest that Mashburn add funds for sharp objects to the budget. She sensed that would be rejected immediately, considering the crew already had their suspicions that she fancied her weapons more than her own crew. If she were honest with herself, they’d be correct; this thought caused her to chuckle at herself.

The ink hadn’t even dried when she heard someone curse. Rolling her eyes, she shook her head and groaned.  _ Here they go again _ , she thought with a grimace. For whatever reason, the crew thought it was a wonderful idea to roughhouse all over the ship and without any regard to her new boots and the blood the idiots would leave behind. Jane didn’t care about the fighting and typically, she didn’t either, but after nearly fifteen minutes of paperwork and another twenty minutes of fighting--she wanted to kill someone. 

Standing from her desk, she threw up her arms and realized she was starving; she hoped that Rigsby had left some of the strawberries saved for her. She’d specifically labeled them to ensure that no one would dare touch them. She stretched out her back and went out of her office and onto the deck. She took a look around and noticed that no one was above.  _ Odd, _ she thought. There were always a few stragglers looking to make a good impression on her. She shrugged it off and was happy that no one was sticking around to kiss up to her. 

She went through the door and down the stairs; noticing that the cursing was beginning to get louder and more aggressive. The crew was never aggressive with each other; it was always just harmless horseplay.  _ What in the ever-loving fuck is going on?  _ Rounding her way to the Crew Mess, she realized that somehow the crew had thought it appropriate to throw cutlery all over the entrance way. Picking up the spoons and forks, as she shook her head, she decided to glance in on the childish fight; considering her crew now resorted to hitting one another with spoons only to find her crew gathered around Rigsby and Bertram. 

Mashburn had his arms around Bertram’s midsection, whilst Cho had his around Rigsby’s; both men, bloody as all hell from the hits that Kris couldn’t help but facepalm. How in the ever-loving fuck was she going to explain the fight between a crew officer and Bertram to Jane? She was supposed to be  _ curtailing  _ fights, not allowing them! Kris considered turning on her heels and walking away, when Rigsby’s comment caught her attention: “We all know the reason you’re even still here is because Kris is sleeping with you! You filthy fuck of a manwhore.” Although Kris had no concern about Bertram’s love life (or lack of, therefore), she absolutely hated when people made disgusted remarks about her own sex life; especially one that hadn’t been all too active to begin with. 

In anger, she spun on her heels and coughed loudly enough to gain the entire room’s attention. Some of the crewmembers’ immediately paled, while others tried to sneak off from the impending doom. Either way, she was going to flay someone alive. 

“I’m sorry,  _ Officer Rigsby _ , what was that?” Rigsby stilled in Cho’s hold, both of their white shirts red from where Bertram had punched the man’s nose. Kris crossed her arms against her chest and tapped her foot against the flooring, waiting as the entire crew nearly cowered before her. Instead of responding immediately, Rigsby bumbled with his response. 

“I…uh…he...we...they--”

Before he could stammer anything else or dismiss away his behavior, she took a step forward and slammed her fist into his pelvic area. 

Rigsby bucked backwards, as Cho released him--the man’s hands immediately going to his groin. He let out a moan, as Bertram chuckled. 

Not one to play favorites, she spun on Bertram and decked him--hard--across the jaw. 

Mashburn caught him, much to Kris’s displeasure. “Steady, friend.” Kris said nothing else, until after she had shaken out her hand -- relief spread through her body, as she continued to stare the idiots down. 

“I am going to say this once and only once,” she started, her voice deadly calm. “I am not sure what made you think having a bitch fight would do, but I can assure you it has only pissed me off. It’s bad enough that you two cannot get along, but to drag my sex life into it is quite another thing altogether.” She paused to turn her attention to the rest of the crew. “I am going to address this nasty rumor; I will never, won’t ever, in only your wildest fantasies, sleep with the garbage that is James Daniel Bertram. If that isn’t clearing things up enough for you all, then you all are dumber than I thought.” The rest of the crew glanced downwards toward the floor, unable to meet her eyes and she grimaced. “Now, as far as this dumbass fight is concerned, Officer Rigsby,” from his crouched position, hands still over his probably sore genitals, he glanced upwards at her. “You are stripped of your title as my right hand. Until you redeem yourself in my eyes, you are also stripped of any voting rights you had as an Officer. To make my point even clearer, you will be put on night duty and treated as though you were a deckhand.” The surrounding crew members let out a soft  _ ooh _ and she scowled at them all, unamused. “I will not give power, such as an Officer position, to a known bully. You are not a role model for this crew and until you behave as such, this is my final word.” She then turned her head to Bertram, whose hand was pressed against his jaw. “As far as Bertram is concerned, there is nothing I can take away from you as you hold no power.” She watched as he had the gaul to quirk his mouth upwards, which only served to infuriate her more. “You have been told time and again to settle your issues with Wayne and treat him as you would anyone else, however, you’ve chosen to ignore my orders.” Without hesitation, she slugged him against the jaw again. The quirk to his mouth disappeared. “If you do  _ not _ improve, reform, or whatever the fuck it’s called, I will personally write Governor Gale Bertram and let him know his son failed in his mission upon  _ my _ ship and he will be returning to Governor Island within the next three months. This is non-negotiable.” 

Bertram’s eyes grew wide. “You...”

“I would,” Kris interrupted, coldly. “So don’t try me. Do I look to be in a kidding mood?” In response, the entire crew shook their heads side-to-side. “Glad we could all be in agreement here. Now, here’s what  _ I  _ want.” She paused to kick at the utensils around her feet. “I want this mess cleaned up. I want this floor so clean that I could  _ eat  _ off of it, if I chose to do so and everyone in this room is going to assist with this.” 

Mashburn’s voice caught her attention. “Kris, they need…”

“Don’t tell me what they need, Mashburn,” she interrupted again. “Because, as far as I’m concerned, you and Officer Cho here are complicit in their crimes; as neither of you told me of the abuse Rigsby was dishing out to Bertram.” Immediately, both Cho and Mashburn paled. “You have made me look like an idiot in front of this entire crew. If your hope was that I would be a sullen, quiet First Mate, you are wrong.” She paused to spit at them both. “If your hope was that I would turn into the  _ perfect _ Teresa Lisbon - you are wrong there too. I am not afraid to dole out punishment as necessary. Unlike  _ Perfect  _ Teresa, I am not afraid to make a few enemies amongst my own crew, if that means you all will take me fucking seriously. I’ve had enough of the blatant disregard for my leadership and the consistent questioning from my Officers. If you do not like how I run things, then vote me off the ship, but this ship should never want a Saffron as an enemy - that I can promise you.” Her father had proven that to be true, several times over. “So,  _ Mashburn _ , if you are done spewing idiotic vitriol, you can begin the clean up process. Until then,” she turned on her heels to leave, “keep out of my goddamn way.”

Before she could leave the mess hall, Jane approached her with a grim smile.

“I know where Red John is.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're baaaaaaaaaaack! Here's the next chapter and the start of part two!

Her boots felt bolted to the floor. Her arms were pinned to her sides. Her sword had become an extension of her hand. She heard the  _ drip, drip _ of the blood that ran off her nose and onto the floorboards. Her whole body was covered in the stuff; it molded itself to all the curves of her torso, legs, and arms. It had become an almost permanent fixture in her hair - as if she had decided to dye it blood red. The blood that covered her body almost felt like a shield of armor. It encased her, as if to say that it would protect her from the horror outside the walls of the ship. It whispered in her ear that it would shield her from her demons and the misery that lives inside her head. It seduced her, telling her that they only had each other and that there was nowhere else to go. That no one would help her - only the blood was capable of such a relentless task. 

She swore that the blood might have been speaking to her, but she knew better. It was this god forsaken ship and all its hauntings that whispered those dark seductions into her ear. Blood couldn’t talk, it couldn’t even evoke emotion, but it hardened like a shell in your hair and on your skin. It could only encase you before it was washed away by something more powerful than itself. 

She tried to move her body again; tried to pick up her feet so she could walk. So, she could get help. So, she could find Walter and Cho; maybe they would understand what had happened to her. She wasn’t too sure herself. It had gone black; as if she had been drinking heavily the night before and couldn’t remember how she had become naked in some man’s bed. No idea how she got there or what had come over her to do such a thing. It was the same as being drunk - she could only remember segments of what’d happened before. The memory that triggered her blackout - the thing that may have permanently changed who she was. She felt her body go rigid; all of her nerves were sparking. She felt the slight movement of her fingers tighten around the blood-coated blade in her hand. It was the first time she had felt any of her movements in what felt like hours, but realistically, it may have only been minutes. 

All of this had been to save her crew, hadn’t it? To have the horror of Captain Red John washed away forever, but she couldn’t help thinking that she had somehow failed all of them. That none of what she had done in the past fifteen years had saved anyone. That it only saved her from the inevitable pain she caused those who came into contact with her. She had been saving people all her life - even when she shouldn’t have. 

Suddenly, a pain struck like lightning in her temple at these thoughts. It was as if her body was having a physical reaction to her memories. Her head was pounding, pounding, pounding. It hurt. It was continuous. It didn’t stop and wouldn’t until she succumbed to the memories that were being brought to the surface. Memories of the last time she tried to save someone; memories of the person she was before all this happened. She closed her eyes and her world went black.

_ She ran. She needed to tell someone before it was too late. Before the person she loved was lost forever. She was angry; in fact, she was furious. How could he say those things to her? How could he tell her that he never loved her? It couldn’t have been real, but...it might have been. She shook her head and kept running.  _

_ She couldn’t take the chance that it might have been all a lie. She couldn’t rely on that feeling alone. Gale Bertram was too sadistic and intelligent to allow the possibility of hope. So, she kept running and didn’t stop until she reached the doorframe and pounded on the door. She didn’t care if she had woken up the entire house. She needed to give this one last effort and then, she would walk out of all their lives forever.  _

_ Finally the man who had always been more of a father to her than her actual father, General Samuel Bosco, opened the door. No surprise that he was fully dressed at such an early hour - in his Naval uniform, ready to take on whatever challenges the sea had to offer him that day. His eyes found her own and he knew. He knew immediately what had happened; it was all over her body - the grief, shock, and pure horror. Other than the man who had just broken her heart, Sam Bosco knew her better than anyone else. She never needed to say what had occurred - he just knew somehow.  _

_ Without a word, she felt his hand go to her back and lead her into the house. He sat her on his favorite armchair and went to the kitchen to put on a pot of tea. She watched as Sam slowly sat down in the chair across the way and watched her. That was Sam Bosco - ever the observer, the one to notice something that might have gone unnoticed to anyone else.  _

_ She heard him swallow and, at almost a whisper, say, “Kris…” _

_ “Help him, Sam. Please. You’re the only one who…” A sob caught in her throat, but she swallowed it down and stared at him. She hoped that her eyes pleaded that the man she loved needed to be saved, but not by her. Not her. Not ever again. Once she left this home, she silently swore she would never help anyone in that family if it risked breaking her heart in the process.  _

_ “You know,” Sam began - caution in his tone, “I cannot undo Gale’s will. If this is what he wants, Kris, I can’t help the boy.” She watched Sam shift in his chair - clearly uncomfortable. She watched him as he wrung his hands together; she knew that he was hiding his anger for her sake, that motion only proved her theory correct. She wished he wouldn’t do that. She wanted him to stop shielding her from how he felt; that experience had just run her through not hours before.  _

_ She caught the tear running down her cheek; swiping at it so as to be rid of the possibility it could become a permanent fixture on her face.  _

_ “He’s not prepared,” she said, causing her lungs to hurt because she was attempting to breath and talk at the same time. It was as if her body was only capable of one or the other. The pain was excruciating, but she kept going. “Enlist him. It will buy him…” It was an insane idea, but it was the only one she thought would work. There were benefits to military training; he would be able to fight. He would understand strategy and how to best handle a battle. Yes, this would only better prepare him for his grim fate and Gale Bertram has only ever wanted his son to be the best. _

_ “Time,” Sam finished the sentence for her. “It will buy him time and a chance to fight back.” Sam looked down at his boots and there was a deafening silence. She hoped Sam would see that this was necessary; she knew Sam didn’t want this fate for anyone. So, if he could only prolong it… _

Her eyes snapped open from the memory; that had been long ago. James was supposed to have been brought to Red John and be a part of his crew. Sam had managed to prolong the process by convincing Gale that James needed to toughen up in the military before he became a loyal servant to the notorious Captain. She knew this because Sam had written to her of his accomplishment and had hoped that this was what she had meant that day. It had been. She had managed to save him and never spoke of that day to anyone - not even to James. She never would tell him how she had managed to change his path and helped to create the man she, now, knew him to be. She swore she would never say a word, because he needed to believe he got there on his own. He needed to have that confidence that his defying the odds was all him - not her. 

Her body shivered at the thought of James. Had she known then what she knew now. How everything had not been a coincidence. That those who had saved her had not shown up on accident, but it was all a part of some master plan. A master plan that had been thwarted by none other than the infamous First Mate of the Red Rum - Craig O’Laughlin. She understood now why Craig O’Laughlin was put to death. That his mistake had prevented her destruction, or at least, she thought it had. Now, she wasn’t so sure.

Thoughts of her past brought her back to this present moment in time. None of this had been written down for her. No magic letter telling her that her ills in life were about to be explained. It was told to her by a cruel tongue and one that took pleasure in her pain. One, that was now dead. At the thought, her head pounded against her skull - again. The thrumming could almost give itself a beat, but she knew what the pounding meant. She tried to escape the feeling; tried to push back the memory of only a few hours ago. She couldn’t do it. So, she closed her eyes again and let the darkness embrace her. 

_ “Kristina,”  _ _ her name came out like a hiss from Carter’s mouth. “What a pleasure to see you again.” She immediately brandished her sword - ready for the inevitable fight he would give her. Despite the limp he sported, thanks to her, Timothy Carter was not someone to underestimate. In fact, it was rumored that he was almost as notorious as the Captain himself.  _

_ She learned from her father, also a Red John ally, that Timothy Carter had been one of Red John’s first acquisitions onto the Red Rum. Not only did he have navigational skills that rivaled those of Kimball Cho - he had a knack for knowing everyone’s business, which made him an excellent spy. An informant posing as someone who steers the Red Rum in the right direction. It had been rumored that Red John had liked that she had given Carter the limp. That it had worked to the Captain’s advantage when it came to his enemies. That the men who would face Carter thought he was the easy mark, but were soon proven wrong. Carter could be vengeful and violent. He could be ruthless and cold hearted; that just because he sported a limp - does not mean he wasn’t deadly. She knew that all too well from her time she was betrothed to the man. His visceral beatings and whippings had shown her that he would give her no mercy; even though he supposedly had “loved” her.  _

_ “Ah,” she saw his eyes move to her sword and she knew he understood what was about to happen. “I see. You have the same path as your insolent Captain Patrick Jane.” He spit onto the floorboards; clearly, unbothered that he was inches from his own death. “Revenge on those who have wronged you.” She stepped forward as to finish the bastard off, as he wasn’t giving her much of a fight. He seemed to want to run his mouth off at her instead, but she knew that this was a distraction. That his words were to throw you off, that way you did not feel the sword run through your gut. This wasn’t a new tactic for Carter, but one she was surprised that he would try on her; considering she had witnessed him do this to others on numerous occasions.  _

_ “But let me tell you, pet,” his venomous words spewing from his mouth like a cobra, “you have no idea about the wrongs inflicted upon you and a certain…” Carter paused; she could tell he was enjoying this and would relish in every moment. Until she killed him - at least.  _

_ “A certain handsome, green-eyed man that you are so desperately in love with,” he scoffed at her. “Foolish girl.”  _

_ “Carter,” she spat, “there’s nothing new you need to tell me that isn’t out to manipulate me.” She continued to stalk forward; even though he was making a concerted effort to move back. It was as if he wasn’t ready for the fight. Was he frightened of her? She doubted it; it seemed unlikely that he built up some fear in his head. If any Red Rum crewmember displayed fear to their enemies, even if they had survived, they would be brutally punished for it later. So no, there must be a reason that he keeps stalling the inevitable. His voice interrupted her thoughts.  _

_ “Then,” he began in a storytelling fashion, “you don’t have any interest in how Patrick Jane and Teresa Lisbon were the reason for your love life being destroyed?” He tilted his head at her in question, but continued at her stunned silence. “How it was you who was meant to be here on this ship, with me, and not Teresa Lisbon? How that idiot Craig O’Laughlin took the wrong woman and shifted the course of action forever?” She felt her legs go leaden at his words. Craig O’Laughlin made an error? How was that possible? Surely, he had meant to take Lisbon; considering their sordid past and the story she had once heard from Rigsby about O’Laughlin’s betrayal. Taking Lisbon was the right choice - it had to have been. It made sense given their history and the fact that Lisbon was Jane’s one weak point. Taking Lisbon would destroy Jane and Red John certainly knew that. Unless...her mind went to a dark place at that moment. Unless, Jane and Red John’s rivalry had been a stunt all these years? No, Jane had been so convincing. He knew everything; even before some others did. She had always thought that Jane had been clever; able to see the truth behind the lies of those who worked for Red John. She stopped.  _

_ “Jane got those coordinates from…”  _

_ “Me, dearest,” Carter replied. “Don’t you see? Whatever your Captain told you of those coordinates was a lie. Patrick and Teresa were sent to that wretched island they found you on to pick you up. Start some preliminary training and, eventually, send you right here. To me.” A smirk quirked onto Carter’s lips as he continued to tell his twisted tale to her. She could feel the anger bubbling in her stomach, rising towards her lungs, and up to her mouth. She couldn’t attack. Not yet. She needed him to keep talking, so she let him hang himself with his own words.  _

_ Carter chuckled. “Breaking you two up was simple,” he said, “Gale wanted his son to be the best. Your father wanted you to be obedient. The Good Captain wanted you both. One to become what Teresa Lisbon has - a monster - and the other to serve loyally behind the Good Captain. Take his rightful place, one day, as the Captain of the Red Rum himself.” He cleared his throat and continued to walk backwards; her hand gripped tighter onto the hilt of her sword. “So,” he continued, “we sent our newest minions - Patrick and Teresa - to do the job. Patrick managed to convince Gale that, now, was the time and to end this romance before it went too far.” The smile that formed on Carter’s lips was devilish and cold. “That was until a sad, little girl got in the way and Gale was convinced by that wretched General Bosco for his son to be sent to the military instead.”  _

_ Her eyes went wide. She had never told anyone that she was the one who had gone to Sam in the first place. How had he managed to figure this out? Red John always had had spies on his loyal islands; someone must have seen her running to Bosco’s home that day - begging him to save James for as long as he could.  _

_ Carter clenched his jaw and fist at the same moment, but then, decided to give up more of the tale that he knew would, inevitably, end his life. “I think you know how the rest of this goes, Kristina,” he said chuckling low.  _

_ “You know where that story ends up. Right here. With me.” His face turned dark and with a scowl and before she could blink - he had taken her by the throat - pinning her to the wall. She recalled the first time he had done this to her. Back then, she had stabbed him in the leg and ran off. Not this time. This time, she would have his blood.  _

_ “You’ve always been a nosey, little bitch, Kristina,” he seethed at her; his grip tightening around her throat. “Getting in the way of every plan. Ensuring the failure of your former Captain and First Mate. How is it that such a weak, little bitch has managed to get away this long, huh?” His grip only got tighter and she felt the world about to turn black, but she wasn’t about to let him win this. _

_ She wheezed out her words, “I...am….not...weak…” With that, she managed to kick out at him and hit his still painful injury. He let go of her with an audible grown, she fell to the floor, as Carter lurched over and grabbed at his tender leg. She hoisted herself onto her feet, grabbed her sword from the deck, and swung the sword down his exposed arm. He yelled out in pain, various curses flying from his mouth. When he lifted his face to shout at her she swung again - the sword slicing down the middle of his face; causing profuse bleeding.  _

_ All of a sudden, seeing his face, bloodied and torn, brought all the horrible memories of living with him back. Every whipping, every beating, every name he ever called her, every rape that she ever endured at his hand. It all came back to her; like a dam had broken and she wasn’t sure how to stop the flooding. She wasn’t sure if it had been his story, him calling her weak, or if this was the thing that finally broke her resolve, but she saw red. Kristina Saffron was gone and the monster was unleashed and it would kill all that got in her way.  _

_ The adrenaline pumped through her veins when she attacked him again with her sword. She doesn’t know where the sword hit him on his body; all she knew was that he was bleeding. Eventually, she found herself on top of him, her sword at her side, and she was repeatedly punching him in the face with both fists. Over and over she struck at him. The blood from his mouth and nose coating her hands. It smelled of the lives he took and felt like a poison that was burning her skin, but this was cathartic and she welcomed the pain his blood was causing her.  _

_ When she was sure that he was, at least, passed out - she took the knife out from her left boot, the one that she originally used to give Carter his limp, and plunged the small knife into the man’s throat. The impact caused his blood to spurt out and onto her face and neck. Dripping down her shirt, between her breasts. The blood slowly wrapping its warm hands around her body. She wiped the blood from her eyes, ran her drenched fingers through her long hair to pull it back, and pulled the knife from Carter’s throat, deciding then to cut down the length of his body. She kept carving until the body was unrecognizable. She did this in a hot daze. She remembered opening his mouth and slicing through the tongue. She remembered taking her sword, when her knife was not enough, and sawing through his bad leg. She remembered how swiftly she was able to remove his head from his corpse. It was only after she saw Carter’s head rolling off the side and into the ocean that it all went black. _

She awoke from the real nightmare in her mind and felt the cold, damp wind hit at her face and wind up her thighs. Her body, she thought, shivered at the contact, but she couldn’t be sure. All she knew is that when she was finally able to look down - she saw them. The bodies of the dead. They had died in a variety of formats and screamed a number of different curses and names as they went, but they all had one thing in common - she had been their executioner. Not that she could recall doing it, of course. After Carter had been disposed of - she didn’t remember much of anything and had only regained reality after she had been standing in this room - covered in the blood of her victims. Evidence of her massacre stained every part of her body and most, if they saw her, would run away in horror at the sight. She wasn’t sure if anyone from her crew had come looking for her. As far as she knew, the battle was still happening up on deck; she should go join them, but that was a dangerous idea. 

The monster Carter had told her about had been trained to be provoked inside Teresa Lisbon. She, however, never had needed to be trained - her monster had been inside her all along. There was no need to stoke the fire or to make her angry at the world. She had enough heartbreak and misery - that she could set the whole world on fire. Put to the wrong use - she could burn down whole villages; cities, maybe. It was a frightful thought that, indeed, Carter had been right. Lisbon may have succumbed to the will of the Red Rum in time, but she...she would have never needed time. She would have only needed to see the worst of what was possible. Red John knew exactly what that was, too - seeing James become loyal to the evilest pirate who ever sailed the seven seas and not to her. 

She felt a sob catch in her throat at the thought when she heard the sound of boots falling on wood behind her. She put her hand to the hilt of her sword and gripped it tight. She hoped that it was Cho or Walter coming to find her and take her back to the ship, even if they had to carry her all the way there. If it was the enemy - she hoped that they had prayed to whatever God they believed in - as she would show them no mercy. She bared her teeth and stood at the ready for her attacker when she heard the familiar voice. 

“Kristina Saffron,” cooed Teresa Lisbon, “I see that you’re sporting a new sense of fashion these days.” She kept both ears open as she monitored Lisbon’s approach. Lisbon was prepared for whatever attack might come her way. If she made the wrong move, Lisbon would run her through. There were few things that she and Teresa Lisbon had in common, but one thing was sure, they both understood a pirate’s fight - it was highly unfair. 

“You have made…” Lisbon paused, “quite a mess in here.” She watched as Lisbon stepped over the bodies, not sparing them a second glance, and continued to approach her. Teresa Lisbon was in typical Red Rum crew attire - all-black, a weapon hidden in each pocket, and an expression that was not keen on mercy. There were ghost stories about how the last thing you saw, before being killed by Red John or his crewmen, was the expression on their face. The rumors that they only ever smiled when you were bleeding out and about to die. Some stories had gone so far as to proclaim that some of the Red Rum crew were cannibals - much like Governor Bret Stiles. Cannibals recruited to eat the evidence that was left behind. These were all childish stories, of course; meant to scare small children into behaving, but she had yet to see the truth of them herself. 

She felt Lisbon’s hand touch the base of her throat. “Nothing to say?” Lisbon questioned as she ran a finger down her blood-soaked throat. “You always have something to say,” she continued. “The famous Kristina Saffron! Never without her weapons and a smart remark!” Lisbon began to circle her but continued her speech. “Kristina Saffron, supposedly, the rumored savior of the seven seas. They say she is destined to save the oceans from the likes of this crew. From Red John.” Her eyes darted to see Lisbon put her hands, casually, behind her back. She thought Lisbon would have come in here looking for a fight, but today hadn’t gone as planned, so, why would this encounter be anything but? 

“Did you get your wish?” Lisbon spat venom, much like Carter’s. Her green eyes revealed the monster underneath her skin, the flames that were aching to come out and take a life. She saw that yearning in Lisbon’s eyes and knew that Red John’s doctrine had fully taken hold of her former First Mate. She wasn’t much for religion, but her only thought was,  _ May God have mercy on her soul. _

“Do you feel like the hero that you were rumored to be?” Lisbon chuckled darkly but insisted on opening her mouth. “Was it all worth it, Kris? Did he come back to you?” At that, she yearned to take Lisbon by the throat and scream. She saw it in her mind’s eye - how killing Lisbon would be the most satisfying kill yet. How her screams of agony and death would taste like the ripest fruit on her tongue and cure the hunger in her belly. Anyone who talks of James in such a manner deserved to be slaughtered on sight. She knew James was the catalyst in her story. She knew what her weakness was and wished she could take her knife and cut those feelings out of herself and throw them away. Life would have been so much easier if she had never fallen for the man. Not that she had acted on those feelings. Not at all. Instead, she had treated him with disdain and cruelty. She had wanted to make sure that he’d never get close to her; if only to save him from the danger being with her brings. She’d had to explain that to Adam and broke it off. No one else should die because they’d claimed to love her.

When she did not answer, Lisbon continued on. “I figured as much,” she smirked. “Does he know what you’ve done? The body count? Does he know that the woman he has loved all these years is the monster he battles against?” She wouldn’t give Lisbon the satisfaction of a reply; not unless she wanted it to be used against her later. For now, she would let Teresa Lisbon have the floor - there would be plenty of time for an apt response in the future. 

“Maybe,” Lisbon preached, “I should tell him myself. Tell the pirate world that the proud, cherished, and idolized Kristina Saffron is a monster. That she slayed a multitude of men in her path without batting an eye.” Lisbon was standing in front of her now - they were eye to eye. “Slayed them so valiantly that she never even realized that she took the life of her own Captain.” Her eyes went wide at that statement; Lisbon wouldn’t. The world knows that Jane and Red John were meant to come face-to-face; that they were meant to slay each other. Red John had always been Jane’s kill. “Or maybe,” Lisbon smirked darkly at her words, “Kristina knew exactly what she was doing. Yes, that’s it. She knew and looked to take power from Captain Patrick Jane and have it for herself.” Lisbon stayed right in front of her and she swore she could hear the wheels turning in Lisbon’s head. They both thought the same - strategically. Always trying to figure out the other’s next move. Always planning ahead, just in case one ever outdid the other. 

“I am sure, Kristina, you know the price of murdering one of your own without cause,” Lisbon stated. The room went silent as if Lisbon was waiting for an answer that would never come. Then, as if Lisbon remembered the answer herself, she mused and a smile crossed her lips, “Oh yes, that’s right - it’s death.” Lisbon started to, once again, pace around her in circles until she began to walk away. “If I were you, Kristina, I would make yourself scarce - you’re about to become the most wanted woman in the whole ocean.” Lisbon laughed at her own statement and continued to leave her behind. 

If Lisbon was about to spread rumors that she had killed Jane in cold blood for power - Lisbon was right, she was going to become the most wanted woman. It is not enough that the rumor says she killed Patrick Jane to gain power of the Scarlet Oasis, but she killed a, now, hero of the oceans because he had slaughtered Red John. Oh yes, things were about to get bad and she needed a plan and fast. A plan that, not even her crew, could know about. She would have to go and find a new way to defeat Teresa Lisbon. One that did not involve the family she had grown to love. One that required her to become the most ruthless pirate in all the seas, but not under her own name. The legend of Kristina Saffron would have to die on the wind and a new legend needed to emerge. One that embraced the monster, but allowed some mercy. 

She waited until Lisbon was at the base of the stairs and then gave these words of wisdom, “I was once told that in order to defeat a monster, you must become one.” She turned her head to see Lisbon paused at the surprise that she had spoken at all. 


	13. Chapter 13

_ Six months later.... _

“That’s  _ enough _ , First Mate Rigsby,” Teresa Lisbon replied coolly, as she stood at the helm and peered down at the Scarlet Oasis crew. Walter Mashburn blinked at her, contempt in his expression as Lisbon waved her hand to have the battered crewmember taken away. Next to him, James stood in silence; expression unreadable as Rigsby moved past. “You’ve done well.” 

Rigsby smiled, which made Walter’s stomach knot as he continued to eye Lisbon; the brunette Captain had decided upon wearing an all-black dress with a matching hat. The hat with its elongated feather reminded him strangely of Kris, God rest her soul. Shaking his head slightly at the intrusive thought, Walter crossed his arms against his chest and glanced toward Cho, who bore no expression at all. “Thank you, Captain.” Lisbon inclined her head and waved her hand, which signaled the crew to disperse. He heard the murmurs of his crew as they hurried past, footsteps silent as they all attempted to remain under Lisbon’s radar. James shifted from next to him and Walter eyed him, curiously, only for Lisbon to disappear from atop the helm.

“This isn’t right,” James muttered from next to him, something he wholeheartedly agreed with. Of course, nothing had been alright since Lisbon had taken over the Scarlet Oasis; something everyone was still getting used to. “She shouldn’t be here.”

“No,” Walter agreed with a frown. “But, again, what could we do?” The question was valid, in his opinion. Although they had held the cash assets to keep sailing with Cho as Captain and James as First Mate, they hadn’t held the crew loyalty—considering Patrick Jane’s death at Kris’s hand and Kris’s so-called disappearance from the Scarlet Oasis. Walter had tried to push back against Lisbon’s takeover, but the former First Mate had left no room for disagreement. 

_ “You’re bleeding crewmembers by the day, Walter,” Lisbon had said, Rigsby at her side. “Either submit to my command or be prepared to die.” _

Not for the first time, James cursed. “We could have fought.”

“And then what?” Walter shot back, his voice quiet. If he hadn’t given Lisbon control, they would have all died. “Kristina wouldn’t have wanted—”

“Walter,” James interrupted coldly. “You have no idea what in the hell Kris would have wanted.” Walter threw up his hands to mollify James, but the brunette pirate shook his head. “So, we’re both clear, she’s very much alive.” Walter tried to contain his sigh, but the dirty look he received told him he had failed miserably.

Walter frowned. He’d known James to be plenty of things; but someone clinging to a pipedream hadn’t been one of them. They’d all seen the blood and the carnage of the Red Rum. Red John’s bloodied body. Timothy Carter’s battered body. Patrick Jane’s headless body. And a body that had resembled Kris’s. He opened his mouth to gently rebuke James, when Rigsby appeared suddenly.

“Why are you two still standing around, doing nothing?” Rigsby asked, while he flexed the whip in his hand. “The Captain dismissed everyone to return back to their posts.” Walter turned to face Rigsby, who probably itched to bring the whip down on James. Something Lisbon had, so far, forbidden him to do.

“I’m sorry, First Mate Rigsby,” James apologized sardonically. “It won’t happen again.” The newest First Mate scowled.

“You’re lucky I’m forbidden to beat the shit out of you, Bertram,” Rigsby growled, something that had Walter on edge. While Rigsby couldn’t touch a hair on James’s head, there were other punishments that the burly brunette  _ could  _ still pass onto him. “Otherwise, I’d wipe that stupid smirk off your face.”

“I wish I could wipe the stupid off yours, Wayne,” James responded, which had Walter sighing again. He watched as Rigsby gritted his teeth, something that had seemed to amuse James to no end. “What? No comeback or idle threat? Has Lisbon turned you into her little whipping boy, Wayne?”

Rigsby cracked his whip against the deck floorboard. “You little son-of-a-bitch. Why I—”

Walter held out his hand to stop the brunette. “First Mate Rigsby, Bertram and I apologize for lingering. It won’t happen again, really.” Rigsby nodded, before he jerked his head toward the Captain’s Quarters. “Is this really worth the Captain’s time, First Mate?”

“Captain wants to see you both anyway,” Rigsby replied gruffly. “I don’t know why, but she does.” Walter continued to frown. A summons from the Captain was never a good sign. He glanced in James’s direction, only to find the man on the verge of speaking again. Walter put an end to it by elbowing him, which garnered him a dirty glare.

“We’ll be on our way then, won’t we James?” Walter asked. James nodded, and accompanied by Rigsby, the two started toward the Captain’s Quarters. Once past the double doors, Lisbon greeted them both with a smile from behind Jane’s desk. “Good morning, Captain.”

“Wayne,” Lisbon said instead. “You’re dismissed.”

“But Captain—”

“Are you arguing with me, First Mate?” From behind the desk, Lisbon’s expression ever-so-slightly changed into one of anger.

In response, Rigsby left.

“Gentlemen,” Lisbon greeted them, her smile back. “Please take a seat.” Without hesitation, both he and James claimed a seat in front of her desk. James’s compliance surprised him, but he supposed James knew Lisbon was far more dangerous than Rigsby could ever be. “I’m sorry you both had to witness that brutal punishment atop the deck.” He heard James scoff from next to him and Walter blinked. Maybe James  _ was  _ an idiot? “I’ve already given my sincerest apologies to Cho, as I never wanted anything to become this gruesome.”

“You worked for Red John,” James answered from his spot. “Everything he did was with bloodshed in mind.”

“Not true, Mr. Bertram,” Lisbon replied, waving his words away. “If not for the Good Captain, you’d all be sailing aimlessly at the moment.” James said nothing and Walter cleared his throat, bringing Lisbon’s attention to him instead. “Ah, Mr. Mashburn—I’ve got something for you that I need approved.” James eyed Lisbon strangely and Walter leaned forward, curiosity biting at him. In the month of her reign upon the Scarlet Oasis, she had yet to ask him for money or supplies, which had surprised him. Someone was obviously financially backing Lisbon’s journey, but who? Walter had no clue. “Could you look this over and then sign it?”

He blinked in surprise again, as he accepted the piece of parchment paper that Lisbon held out.

Glancing downward, he realized  _ exactly  _ what she wanted him to sign.

“What is it?” James asked him quietly.

Walter glanced upward at James. “It’s a new charter for the ship.” James’s jaw dropped slightly. “The Captain here,” he paused to gesture toward Lisbon, who continued to smile, “wants us to follow a new set of rules here.” 

“A new set of rules?” James echoed, sounding surprised. Mashburn nodded, before he handed the piece of parchment paper over to James, who took it gingerly. “Lisbon…”

“It’s Captain Lisbon, Mr. Bertram,” Lisbon interrupted, before she continued. “With a new Captain in place, I felt it was time to update the charter.” And update she did. What had once been a concise list of twenty rules, all approved between himself and Patrick, had turned into a complex mess; starting with  _ The Captain’s always right  _ and ending with  _ torture is encouraged _ . Mashburn frowned. He definitely didn’t agree with torture. Or the Red John dogma, which involved an aesthetic of an all black wardrobe and a mandatory crew visit to Kane Island. In fact, he saw nothing wrong with the old charter--but he wasn’t about to point that out to her. Lisbon seemed quite pleased with her own work, something that didn’t bode well for himself or the crew. 

“Captain,” James restarted, which had Lisbon preening. “These rules go against the original charter of the Scarlet Oasis.”

“I’m very much aware, Mr. Bertram,” Lisbon agreed with him. “However, these rules are  _ far  _ better for our current circumstances.” She paused to glance at Walter. “If you wouldn’t mind signing, Walter, then we’ll be on our merry little way to Kane Island.” 

James stood from his chair, nearly causing the offending piece of wood to splinter. “Absolutely not! Lisbon, are you  _ fucking insane?  _ Kane Island is a wretched place, full of horrors that no man, woman, or child should go through.” He paused to cross his arms against his chest. “I’ve been on that island, Lisbon…”

“Again,” she replied, less sweetly. “It’s Captain.” 

“Captain,” James continued. “Kane Island will ruin everyone here.” Walter glanced at James in surprise. Although James had become much more mouthy since Lisbon’s takeover, his stanch disbelief in Kane Island told Walter that nobody should set foot on the Red John island. 

“Kane Island, Mr. Bertram, is where I learned to be free.” She smiled wickedly. “And it’s where you all will be free too.”


End file.
